Two Eagles
by Xazz
Summary: "Who are you brother? I do not recognize you," Ezio finally spoke and the novices became hushed.   "Aalam," Altair said making Ezio actually stop and give pause.
1. Mid Air Collision

This is a rewrite of the first two chapters. Mostly the first chapter has been altered a bit to fit in better with the story as the first two chapters were written before I had a solid idea of the story. As such you may notice a drop in quality or spelling come chapter three. There is about a year's difference in writing between the new chapters 1 and 2 and chapter three. However the curve is pretty steep so it picks up again quickly. :)

* * *

There was a near missable sound of parting wind before several dull thuds sounded and without even the slightest surprise Altair watched the four guards crumble. Served them right for harassing an Assassin. His eyes immediately went up, scanning the rooftops, knowing better then to even bother to search the ground like the guards may have. Standing just beyond easy sight were five figures, only one of which he actually recognized, as they dropped down from the edge of the roof. It was impossible not to recognize the one though with his close cut beard and who carried himself like a hunting lion, his sharply beaked hood tugged to just so to cast a deep shadow across his eyes.

"Are you all right brother?" asked one of the novices with the Master. He was being looked at worriedly and he was glad for his own mask, so much like a novice's, only the color of spilled blood instead of gunmetal gray, for it hid his amused smirk. If they had not come around he would have dealt with those guards himself without too much trouble.

"Thanks to you, yes," he bowed his head slightly to them, knowing how to be humble even as his tongue curled around the once foreign Italian he could now speak without even a hint of accent. "That was quite good shooting," he added, looking at the novices as their leader did not wield a bow, not with that sort of precision or speed at least.

"Thank you," one said, speaking for them all though Altair recognized an archer when he saw one. His shoulders were too broad and muscular to be anything but and his black bow across his back was obvious enough, and different from the other bows the other novices had.

There was a low rumble from their leader, a tallish man who everyone in the Brotherhood should have recognized: Ezio Auditore. "Who are you brother?" he inquired, "I don't recognize you, and I do my best to remember faces of everyone."

"I am fresh into Rome," he said, "Perhaps we could walk?" he asked nodding in another direction, the edge of his sight catching red from a pair of guards down the street. Even when not using the full power of his second sight reds and blues flashed and flickered in his periphery as it wasn't something he could quite turn off anymore. He was old and things were bleeding around the edges when it came to his abilities, spilling over his threshold of control. He wasn't exactly surprised though that was to be expected when someone was as old as he. He couldn't remember the year of his birth anymore, all he knew was that he'd lived a mortal life during the Third Crusade and from then till now it could sometimes just become a blur.

Ezio only nodded and took the lead. The novices hung back watching Altair and Ezio walk together. Altair was grateful for the white hood, instead of the gray of novices, it could be very helpful in maneuvering about within the Brotherhood and not having to answer every query put to him. He heard them drift further back before the scrape of their boots on brick and mortar came to Altair's sensitive ears and knew they were away up on the rooftops.

Altair made an amused noise, "I wish I had been allowed the privilege of patrol duty with a Master when I was a novice," and he chuckled.

"You did not?" Ezio asked, as though the idea otherwise was strange.

"The Brotherhood was different then," was all he said.

"Yes, of course," Ezio nodded in what should have been a sagely manner, Altair just found it humorous. "I did not get your name adept," he said again.

"Aalam," he said making Ezio actually stop and give pause. Even shadowed Altair could see Ezio's question in his eyes, "I am not originally from Italy," he dipped his head, "Much like your skilled archer," he added.

"I see," Ezio said slowly and they continued to walk, Altair followed without further comment. "What is your purpose in Rome Aalam? I see to know when and where my men are in this city at all times," he sent Altair a hard look and Altair made appearance that it affected him. Again he just found Ezio's almost glare amusing, it was no where near as withering as Malik's-

He shook his head, best not bring up old memories such as that. Nothing good from remembering ghosts. Usually all the came with it was pain. "Today? Today I am only a messenger," he gave an amused snort.

"A messenger? Surely that would be the job of a novice, not someone like you," he looked Altair over and the ancient knew Ezio did not miss the cut or color of his robes; Master Assassin.

Altair chuckled, "You do not send a novice to deliver a message to the Borgia," and he held up a sealed envelope with the Auditore seal on it from one of his pouches. "At least not if you want them to live," Ezio's surprise was amusing.

"Who sent you?" he asked curiously.

"I was to deliver it in the event of Mentor Mario's death," he said in a flat, bland, voice and saw Ezio wince from the still fresh pain of his uncle's death. The death of his uncle, much like the death of his family, was still an open wound. Altair frowned behind his mask, the boy should know by now to at least not to let it show to random strangers. "I was away on another mission in Spain till recently," lie, "but now I'm here to follow my last order," he said and reached back as if to scratch his back as red flashed at the edges of his sight. He couldn't make the guards out in the crowd in regular sight but a quick look beyond told him otherwise. Two of them, dressed as civilians with armor under their clothes and no visible weapons. Altair turned back to Ezio as if nothing was wrong.

"What are the contents of the letter?" Ezio asked.

"I don't know. Mario simply told me that if he died I was to deliver it," he glanced at Ezio, as the man seemed tense and almost upset.

"Why you?" now that was almost an accusation, that Mario would trust this mission to some _stranger_ and not to him. He was almost bitter. Poor man.

"Peace, brother," Altair said calmly and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end; the guards were shifting closer to them in the crowd as they walked, they were not blind to the Assassins as he was not blind to them. "Mario was the man who trained me," only half a lie he lamented. "He took a personal interest in my skills… we were close. Not like you and him, but he had to put his enthusiasm somewhere when you were not home; I happened to be the target," he ended in a weary sigh of someone who had suffered, that was true at least.

That amused Ezio, and the stiffness and suspicion and resentment left his body. "Yes, that does indeed sound like my uncle," he agreed, now with a grin. "I apologize for any overzealousness on my uncle's part," he said.

"Nothing to apologize for my brother," Altair said before adding, "We are being followed."

Ezio glanced back, "I do not see anyone," and Altair wanted to strike him. Idiot! How had he gotten this far in life and not been killed yet? He'd never met an Assassin so obvious. He better not be teaching the novices his bad habits.

His glare was safe under his hood as he nearly growled, "All things are not always as they appear," he could not believe Ezio was this dense. The man shut his eyes for a moment and Altair danced out of the way as he opened them and swung them back around behind them so not to be caught in Ezio's second sight. He'd be found out for sure and he did not want to answer those questions. Ezio was not ready.

"Ah, yes, you are right brother, I did not see them before," Ezio said blinking and turned back to Altair who was standing in front of him.

"If we keep moving they won't be able to do anything without breaking cover," Altair noted and Ezio nodded in agreement and the two continued walking. As they did Altair glanced back and saw the ripple between the two guards. They knew they'd been spotted and were moving closer still. He cursed in Arabic.

"Excuse me?" Ezio asked.

"Nothing," Altair said making a fist with his left hand, the hidden blade kissed the stump of his ring finger and the red at the edges of his right eye grew stronger and like an alarm went off in his head he moved without thinking as a guard came up on his right side and he slammed his hidden blade into the man's head. Ezio gave a start, since he'd been talking (Altair hadn't been listening) and turned in time to see the Arab shove the man off his single blade and in time to catch the other's sword on it. An arrow shot through the other man's throat before Altair had a chance to twist his grip and kill the man. But that was all for the better.

Altair looked up and saw the dark skinned apprentice, his bow still poised, another arrow nocked. He lifted a hand and the apprentice lowered his bow. "Who is that?" Altair asked and wiped his blade on the clothes of a guard.

"Who?" Ezio asked watching him.

"Your marksman."

"His name is Enu," he said.

"That is a man I would have no problems with having at my back," Altair said and sheathed his blade turning back to Ezio who once again looked unruffled; though now curious. Altair started walking again, it was always best to leave the bodies quickly before more guards came, Ezio didn't comment when he followed him.

"That was very impressive Aalam," Ezio said.

"Thank you," he ducked his head.

"How did you know they were there?"

Altair cursed himself silently. "I heard them," he said after a few seconds. He could tell Ezio didn't quite believe him but did not comment either.

"When you have finished your errand for my late uncle I wish to speak with you again," he said.

"Of course, I would be glad to Ezio," he bowed his head to Ezio once more and when he looked up the bearded man was gone. Altair almost laughed. It seemed the kid wasn't as bad as he gave him credit for!

—

Altair felt his brows go up as he watched his target from the rafters. She wasn't doing much now, just reading, though her shoulders shook as if she was shivering, or holding in some great emotion. This was who Mario had instructed him to deliver the letter to; he could not fathom why though. Still; she looked safe enough. Immediately after he thought that he fought the urge to hit himself. Women weren't always weak, he should know that by now; not even ones in dresses.

He let go of his place in the rafters and dropped. His hand was over her mouth before she could scream in surprise and his other hand gripped her right wrist in case it wanted to dash to a blade hidden somewhere on her person. He'd learned the hard way, several times, that women were not as helpless as they wanted you to think they were.

I do not come for your life this day Lucrezia Borgia," he said, "Not unless you make me that is," he added eyes sharp and slowly she nodded. He let her mouth be free first, removing his hands slowly, she did not scream; only stare. Satisfied she would not do anything stupid he released her hand as well.

"What do you want from me assassin?" she growled.

"Nothing," he reached into one of his pouches, "I am merely the messenger," he said and held out the Auditore sealed envelope. She eyed it suspiciously for a few moments but when he didn't take it away she snatched it.

"It better not be full of poison assassin," she hissed and Altair frowned behind his mask and wished all those ghost memories would stop tormenting him so.

"I said I was not here for your life, and I am not. So if it is I am not aware," he said simply. "But that is all Borgia," he stepped away as she opened the envelope. Satisfied she was busy he turned away from her to make for a way out.

He'd only gotten to the window when suddenly she cried, "Wait!" he stopped and peered back at her from the window sill curiously. She was standing now and he could see she was shaking, every line of her face was tight.

"Yes?" he tilted his head to the side favoring the subtle catch on his hidden blade.

"I want to see him," she said.

"See who?" he asked.

"My son," by his silence she took he did not understand; for he did not. She took a few steps over to him and held out the letter. He took it carefully and inspected the characters. He hated reading Italian, it was such an ugly, bulky language, unlike Arabic. Even after so long he had trouble reading it, and he felt he understood Indian better then the latin alphabet. So it took him a bit more time then it should have to get the entire message read. When he did his brows rose; now this was interesting.

"Take me to him," Lucrezia ordered, her words like a whip.

"I would love to," Altair said, "But this is the invitation of my old master. The new one will have to allow it first," he told her.

"Who?" she demanded.

"Ezio Auditore; who else?" he asked and she just bristled angrily. "If he allows this meeting you'll receive a message-

"From you?"

"I do not enjoy the thought of having to find my way into this place again lady Borgia. It will be a much simpler message. Don't worry, you will know it is from us," he looked back outside a moment then back at her, "I will keep this if you don't mind," he said holding up the letter and before she could protest he'd jumped out the window.

—

He waited for Ezio to look up before approaching the man's desk. He'd been speaking to a group of novices, one of which Altair recognized as the dark skinned marksman. "Ah, Aalam," he said.

"Ezio," he bowed his head a little, the novices looking at him curiously as well as in a little awe of being so close to not one but two Master Assassins, they were not exactly common after all. "I need to speak with you," he glanced at the novices, "Privately," he added. Ezio shooed them away he followed the group out with his eyes till they were gone.

"What is it brother?" Ezio asked and he sat at the table across from the man.

"It's about that letter your uncle wrote," he said holding the opened letter up.

"Did you deliver it?"

"Yes," he nodded, "The recipient was kind enough to let me keep it," he said.

"Are they dead?"

Altair actually chuckled, "No, they are not," he shook his head.

"So you were within arm's length of a Borgia and you did not kill them?" Ezio did not sound pleased. Altair almost snorted, he sounded like a whimpering teenager. It was often better to let your enemies live for a time before striking when the time was _perfect_. Ezio should know this.

"I was simply following orders," Altair said helplessly, "Besides, this might fall into our favor," he put the letter down on the desk for Ezio to read. He quickly snapped it up and read through it at least twice.

"Perotto's boy?" Ezio asked quietly. "My uncle was mad if he thought this would be allowed," he said and Altair wondered if Ezio was capable of seeing beyond his need for vengeance. He'd been incapable during the years of hunting down the murderers of his father and brothers. But really could he be so blind?

"If I may?" he asked, Ezio nodded throwing the letter written by Mario onto the desk in a disgusted huff. "This could work in our favor."

"And how do you figure that?"

"Lucrezia has already shown she has consorted with us once before. When I visited her she seemed rather… desperate to see Giovanni again. We could use this to our advantage. Get her to help us instead of them, using the boy."

Ezio squinted at Altair in the silence, as he waited for the hot headed Auditore to come to a decision. For Altair it was an easy choice had he been the one in charge. He would have done it, in fact he had done such a thing once. A child of a noble in Acre had been captured by the enemy, the Assassin's had stolen him back and were preparing to make him into one of their own; not knowing of his connections to the French nobility. When it had come out they'd taken full advantage of the situation to further help end the Crusade.

"I see that this idea could have some merit," Ezio said at last and Altair almost sighed in relief. If he hadn't Altair would have been close to calling him an idiot to his face; he knew Ezio wouldn't appreciate that. Not that it made Ezio any less of an idiot for it though.

"So what is the plan?" Altair asked.

"She will be your responsibility Aalam," he said harshly and Altair internally sighed; of course. "How you wish to go about this I leave to you. If my uncle left you with this mission I feel you can follow through with it," now Altair wanted to strangle the idiot. Of all the useless assignments he'd ever been on as a Master in this life this was by far the most useless, and the most annoying. He'd be having to babysit a Borgia and a novice; what fun they would have.

"Of course," was all he said having to bite his tongue against giving Ezio a piece of his mind. "Is there anything else?"

"No," Ezio took the letter written by Mario and folded it up several times before putting it to the flame of a lamp on the desk.

"Good day then Ezio," Altair said and left quickly. He should have just kept his big mouth shut.

* * *

Also please don't tell me about spelling or grammar errors. I am aware of them, as well as homophone issues like then/than and too/to. I _know_, you don't have to tell me. This story is old and the early chapters may have a bunch of spelling errors. I don't plan on fixing them. These two chapters were fixed for story issues, not grammar/spelling ones. Also i don't have a beta, and I don't want one, so keep that in mind.


	2. Familiar Faces

Altair figured he might as well meet the issue of the letter before allowing Lucrezia anywhere near them. The child was after all born into the Brotherhood (even if only on one side) and one of them. No need to set a viper upon a helpless mouse after all; that would just be tempting fates.

As if Altair believed in any of that nonsense anymore anyways. He was too old to consider things like "fates" or "god" to be real. He'd seen and done everything there was to see and do in the world (or just about in any case). How could he not? He was several hundred years old by now and when you were that old you got very bored. So yes, Altair had seen a lot and was pretty jaded about most of it. He knew there was no 'god', and 'fate' was only what you made of it.

But that didn't stop him from being startled by the boy in question when he came in to see him. "Giovanni?" he asked and the boy looked up from fiddling with his boots and Altair felt his mouth pop open just a little. Thankfully he was wearing his mask so the boy would not see him do something so below his status.

"Who are you?" he asked. He had black hair, olive touched skin and eyes like Altair had never expected. They were gold. Golden eyes were not natural eyes.

"I am Aalam," Altair said eyeing the boy warily. Altair had golden eyes too. They hadn't always been that shade either, they were once darker, browner; amber.

The boy squinted at him and looked at the air next to him, "Consus says you're lying," the boy said staring at him again.

"Consus?" Altair asked stepping closer to him, he wanted a better look at this child.

"He is my friend," Giovanni said.

"Where is he then?"

"He is here," was all the boy said and looked away, again next to him and finally Altair noticed something shimmering just under his visual. He let his eyes shift over to his darkened vision and took an involuntary step back at what was in front of him. A man was, very obviously, standing next to Giovanni, who was once more fiddling with his boots, swathed in a silvery blue shade. An ally… but something else as well. Altair knew there was no one there though which just made him more on edge. Who was this and what were they doing near this child?

Altair frowned sadly when he turned his second eyes on the boy and saw the same thing he saw when he looked in the mirror. A dark swallowing void in the shape of his body was all that was there, outlined in blue. The boy had been touched by a Piece of Eden. But beyond that Altair did not know. The eyes were what had given it away, golden eyes were signs of Eden, the same color light that the pieces threw off when they were being used.

"Why does Consus say I'm lying?" Altair asked calmly, though now he was very interested in a boy. He sat next to him on the bench as the boy finished playing with his boots and looked around, everywhere but at Altair.

"Cause you are," he said staring at Altair with those golden eyes of his. Altair just frowned.

"Well that's very rude of him to say that," Altair said.

Giovanni opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it and made a face. "He says sorry," he said after a moment his lips still twisted into a childish pout of frustration. "What am I doing here?" he asked Altair, looking at him.

"Your mother wants to see you," Altair said and Altair got to watch Giovanni's face go through every emotion; anger, happiness, depression, shock, worry, till it settled on a half nervous smile.

"She does?" he asked. Altair nodded. The boy bit his lips. "She never let me call her my mama you know," he said softly, "Though I didn't know she was till-

"Till?" Altair asked.

But the boy just answered his question with another question. It was one of the few things he actually hated about children; they would never just answer a question, even if they may have wanted to. They made it as difficult to get an answer out of them as humanly possible and loved to be purposefully vague about the whole thing. Altair just sighed internally when Giovanni asked; "Why do you have gold eyes like me?"

Well children weren't the only ones who could be obnoxious and vague Altair thought. "Because I'm like you," he said.

The boy squinted at him with his offsetting gold eyes, "Consus says you aren't like me," he said pointedly.

"Well Consus doesn't know everything," Altair reminded him gently and Giovanni contemplated this for a few moments before nodding in agreement. "Would you like to see your mama Giovanni?" Altair asked when the boy continued to stay silent.

"Yes," he said looking right at him, "I'd like that a lot. Am I allowed?"

"I'll see what I can do," he stood up and patted Giovanni on the head before getting up from the bench and pulling his hood up and over his face. He felt Giovanni watching him as he left.

—

Altair watched the mother and son with more then a little ancient heartache. He knew Lucrezia was a hard, deadly, woman but when she was with Giovanni he didn't see her.

Damn it all.

He pressed his gloved hands to his lowered face, covering his eyes so he wasn't seeing the ghosts anymore. They were all dead now, dead a long time ago and there was nothing he could ever do to get them back or go back to them. As if it wasn't bad enough that his conscience sounded like Malik (complete with calling him a novice). The last thing he wanted to see was Maria in place of Lucrezia while they played with her son.

He should have told Ezio to have someone else make sure Lucrezia behaved herself. He didn't mind fetching her from the place they'd asked her to wait, or taking her back to it. It was watching her and the initiate talk and laugh and giggle and appear so at ease that made it unbearable. It didn't matter if he had some ridiculous excuse, he had to convince Ezio to get a novice to do this.

Altair peered from around his nine fingers when someone sat next to him. It was the dark skinned novice with the amazing skills with the bow. "Can I help you novice?" Altair asked, his words slightly muffled by the cloth and his hands.

"Nothing, sir," the man who's name Altair couldn't remember (which wasn't a surprise really for how many people he'd known in his life). "I just thought that one of us should not suffer alone," he looked at the woman and child who were totally ignoring them.

Altair chuckled and drew away his hands, "I appreciate that-

"Enu," he supplied helpfully and his dark lips pulled back into a smile revealing some of the whitest teeth Altair had ever seen. He looked away after a few moments for looking at Enu with his dark skin just reminded him of the Holy Land where everyone was dark, some even as dark as Enu who was several shades darker then himself. Not like these Italians with their pale and olive complexions.

"You are a very skilled marksman," Altair said, "If you and Ezio had not come along I would not have been so well off as I am now," he lied. It was a simple, easy, beautiful lie and Enu didn't even seem to notice.

"Thank you very much, sir," he bobbed his head. They both looked over when Giovanni laughed loudly. Enu had a troubled look on his face.

"What's on your mind novice?" Altair asked. Damnit he sounded like Malik.

"I mean no disrespect by saying this. But I do not trust Ezio's judgement in allowing a Borgia so close to one of our own," he said after a few seconds of silence. "Even if it is not near the hideout," he looked around at the partially covered courtyard and it's one entrance that didn't involve scaling nearly windowless walls.

"It is mutually benefitting," was Altair's only answer, Enu was just frowning.

"I suppose, sir… You won't tell Ezio I said that will you?" he looked at Altair quickly looking worried.

"No," Altair chuckled, "It is the broadening of opinions that the Brotherhood seeks, not for everyone to agree on everything. Even if I did tell Ezio if he was harsh to you then he would be no better then the Borgia he is trying to defeat," he said and Enu's eyes widened at that, as if Altair was speaking some sort of treason. Altair just shrugged at the novice. "This is why I am a Master, and you are still a novice Enu," he said jokingly. "Now really what are you doing here? This place is too far from Tiber Island for your lie to be at all believable," he said staring at the young man from under his hood.

"_You just seemed familiar,_" Enu said and Altair stiffened at his Arabic. Enu grinned, showing off his big white smile as he did.

"I'm not obvious am I?" Altair demanded, he always had a hard time getting rid of an accent, especially after a journey back to his homeland like he had before coming to Italy years ago. He thought he'd gotten rid of the damn thing by now!

"You don't have an accent if that's what you mean," Enu shrugged, "But you aren't light enough like these people," he said and looked across the court yard at Lucrezia and Giovanni.

"Nor are you," Altair couldn't but point out the obvious and the little voice in his head busily called him an idiot camel-novice.

"Nope," Enu agreed without any bitterness which surprised Altair since he was by far the darkest man in probably all of Rome. That couldn't be easy. "Also, Machiavelli sent for me to tell you Lucrezia's time is up."

"Thank Allah," he said and Enu grinned again. Altair stood up and stretched, he'd been sitting on this marble bench for over an hour now. "Giovanni," he said walking up to the two glancing back at Enu who was watching him, but had pulled his cloth mask back up. Lucrezia immediately glared at him, and Maria's face was super imposed over hers. Damnit, damnit, damnit! "It's time to go Giovanni," he said.

"Okay," he said and let go of Lucrezia's hand, much to her disdain and went to Altair. "When do I get to see my mama again?" he asked Altair.

"When Ezio decides you may," Altair said resting his hand on Giovanni's head. "We'll send you another message Lucrezia, same as before," Altair told her and she scowled since she couldn't see past the shadow of his hood. "You may leave once we have."

"Of course," she said acidly.

"Novice," he called to Enu who straitened in his seat. Altair made a minute beckoning motion and Enu padded over to them adjusting the fit of his hood. "Make sure she doesn't follow us," he told Enu pointing at Lucrezia who just glared at them both.

"Bye bye, mama," Giovanni waved at the Borgia and her face softened for only a moment before Altair had to look away. His hand still resting on Giovanni's head he guided the boy out of the courtyard, he could hear Enu following them, though only for a few feet before he stopped and would no doubt wait for Lucrezia to leave and follow her till she returned to the Castello.

—

Altair waited patiently until Ezio had finished tying the message to the end of the pigeon's leg before making a noise to let the other assassin know he was there. Ezio turned on the bench, "Greetings brother," Altair said with a simple bow of his head.

"Aalam, good to see you again as well brother," said the Italian, his hood was off now since he was finishing work before his nightly rounds. "We're all brothers here Aalam, you don't need to cover your face like a novice," and Altair felt the muscle next to his eye twitch and he refrained from hauling Ezio out of his seat and teaching him a proper lesson in humility. Novice indeed.

"I have some bad scaring on my face, forgive me if I refrain from inflicting the sight upon you," he said instead and saw Ezio's eyes flicker.

"I meant no insult Aalam," he corrected himself now looking guilty.

"None was taken," Altair said, but he at least pulled down his hood so Ezio could see his short dark hair. "What did you call me for?" He asked now, since truly the reason he was here was because Ezio had summoned him.

"For this," Ezio handed him an envelope, the seal was already broken but it was done in red wax and Altair could make out what had been a full papal seal, now half destroyed. He took it and opened it slowly looking at Ezio curiously before pushing his eyes down to the paper in his hands and the words written on it.

Altair refrained from rubbing his eyes while he read the Italian. It wasn't in print either but the scrolling cursive that had started to become popular in the era. It didn't help his ability to read Italian accurately at all and not for the first time he regretted coming to this place. Still he needed to be here, this was an era of change, he needed to ensure that the Brotherhood wasn't squandered. It had been strong under Mario and Giovanni, but for the most recent months under Machiavelli it had lost much of its former luster and glory. It didst help that the man was almost single mindedly obsessed with destroying the Borgia and the Templars. Altair couldn't help but be disgusted by the puppet Mentor and his ways.

His brows went up as he waded through the message and a wicked grin came to his face which must have shown in his eyes because Ezio chuckled darkly. "Lucrezia is very quick to turn to us," Altair said mildly. "She must really want to get on your good side Ezio," that caused Ezio to laugh. "I do not see how this involves me though."

"I told you, Lucrezia is your responsibility," Ezio said plainly and leaned against the table.

"So I'm taking it to mean that what this says is my new assignment?"

"I knew you were a smart one Aalam."

"And what about Lucrezia?"

"What about her?"

Altair sincerely hoped Ezio was not as naive as he was making Altair think. He knew Ezio had not been a true Assassin for long. He'd spent much of his youth hunting down the murderers of his family; which had led him to the Borgia in the first place, though the Order had been watching the Papal family for some time before that. As such he didn't... understand what it really meant to be an Assassin. He knew how to ruthless, how to be cunning, how to plan an attack. What he didn't know was how to properly use the playing pieces he had, especially ones that had to be handled carefully like Lucrezia Borgia and her son the novice assassin.

Well Altair would just have to educate him properly, since that was the case.

"What do you plan to do with Lucrezia now that she has given us this information?" Altair asked.

"I have not decided," a bad bluff, Ezio barely knew what to do with her in the first place, let alone now when she was freely handing the Brotherhood sensitive information.

"Since she is my responsibility, may I suggest that you don't give her what she wants," Altair said.

"What?"

Altair sat across from him at the table and pushed aside a haphazardly arranged pile of various contracts, none of them in any real order and Altair almost balked at them; Ezio was such a disorganized man. His plan may turn out to be more labor intensive then he first thought. He reminded himself this was for the good of the Brotherhood, a cause he had put his life on the line for more times then he could count and would continue to do so till the end of his unnatural life.

"We have something she wants, badly, and she is willing to cooperate with us. To show her compassion now would be to show her we are cowards, push overs and easy to manipulate if we give into her simply because she shows us her good will," he said so only Ezio could hear him though a few assassins were watching them from across the room from where they sat cleaning their hidden blades. "The Brotherhood cannot show weakness, especially to the enemy, even if she is not a Templar. You know as well as I that Lucrezia is manipulative, cunning and won't let anyone get in her way, especially when it comes to her son. She is giving us this in good faith brother," he held up the Borgia's letter idly. "We need to remind her that we do not move to her whims, she moves to ours and unless we call for her she should act as though we don't exist."

"I do not see how giving us information is a bad thing though. You just said we have something she wa-

"If she is supplying us without us asking she could be leading us into a trap, or the messages she sends us could be intercepted. It is not difficult to forge a papal seal Ezio; we do it all the time," he fixed Ezio with his golden eyes and the man actually shifted a little in his seat, though he did not seem overly uncomfortable. He'd made his point clear as day however.

"I see your point brother. But I assure you for now it is safe. I sent some novices to investigate, they reported back that her message was true and as far as we know no one seems to suspect anything," he said sincerely since he obviously realized that he could have made a grievous error and potentially sent his men into a trap. "If you do not wish to do this I will understand and it will be as if Lucrezia's message never was," it was practically apologetic. Another thing you never do; apologize for your decisions if you feel they were right at the time, better to simply correct your thinking for the next time.

"No, I will do it," Altair said putting the message away, "I will need some men."

"Take whoever you wish, if they agree to it," Ezio said and Altair nodded. He stood up and was about to pull up his hood when Ezio added, "You are a very smart man Aalam, thank you for sharing your insight, I can see why my uncle liked you," he gave Altair a friendly smile. Altair had to hand it to the kid, despite being rather ignorant in some areas in others he did nothing but soar, for in that one line he had just deflected any criticism Altair may have given him by simply saying thank you and by making it seem more like a conversation between friends and not as though it was a master speaking to a novice.

"For that and other reasons," Altair admitted, "I simply aim to see that our Order remains strong like it did when Mario was the Mentor," he fixed his hood back into place, "You are a credit to his teachings Ezio."

"Heh, apparently so are you," Ezio said with mirth.

"Safety and peace brother," Altair said, that habit would never die, no matter how long he lived, then he left Ezio at the table to finish his work.


	3. Ghosts in the Night

Altair sat on a rocky outcrop accompanied by two novices and another of his fellow assassins, though unlike Altair he had yet to gain the title of master assassin. It was enough of a team for what they were planning to do: which was blow up one of the Borgia's largest weapon caches. It was a half day's ride from Roma and they'd made good time but Altair did not foresee them getting back to the city till after nightfall as the sun was in its downward arc, that was if they decided to return home tonight at all, and as senior assassin and the leader of the group that decision was Altair's to make.

But that was getting ahead of themselves: they had to blow the cache up first.

Which was where the novice next to him came in. Altair had not seen a better marksman than him in many years, though the bow was familiar in the way deadly curved blades were familiar; something Altair respected but was not a master of himself. The trick was to get into the right position to blow as many caches as possible from one spot without having the man being blown up himself. Or spotted and killed. Neither of those things were part of the plan though, so Enu was safe since Altair's plans had not failed in more years then he could count and he did not plan on starting now by getting the getting the young man killed.

The cache was located below them and up against the outcrop they were standing on surrounded by fifteen foot tall walls made of some sort of pale, quarried, rock. There was on way in and out, by the main gate which face away from the outcrop and a myriad of buildings were scattered around within the wall taking up about five acres of space in total.

"What do you think Enu?" Altair asked him as he watched the apprentice look down at the fort. They were to far up to get any accurate shots; even for someone of Enu's skill, and for now they were just scouting the lay out of the place. Lucrezia had been kind enough to supply guard details as well as an inventory list of what was contained in the fort. If what she said was true this would deal a heavy blow to the Borgia.

"There are not many good spots," he said raising a thumb to his mouth and chewed on the nail, "Those that are are very high, difficult to get into," he turned to Altair.

"Where?" he asked and pointed down, "Point them out to us," he made a small motion with his other hands and the other two came closer to hear what was being said.

"There," Enu pointed with the hand not attached to his mouth, "And there, it is far from the wall and that building is in the way-

"Why not that building then?" asked the other apprentice, "It is higher and you could get off a wider range of shots."

"It is to far from those buildings," Enu pointed to another set of buildings, "and it is very open, exposed on all sides," he frowned.

"What spot is the best?" Altair asked.

"The tower," Enu said without hesitation pointing at the tall guard tower in the middle of the fort. "But I could never get to the top without being seen," he added seriously, "I am not the best climber," he shrugged.

"So, you need a distraction?" Altair asked him, looking at him, a grin on his face under his red mask and showing in his eyes.

"Yes," Enu said slowly as if unsure.

"Then we'll be fine," Altair said simply and looked back down at the fort. "We've got some planning to do before we attack and I want to be ready by sunset. We're going to give these Borgia a show," he turned away from the ledge his mind spinning. After a few seconds the others followed him.

—

Altair had picked up a lot of tricks in his long life. Several of these things included learning how to scare the pants of of the enemy.

The plan was pretty simple really (as most good plans are), Altair, Dante and Marco would provide distraction for Enu who would climb the guard tower and wait until the next morning before showering the fort with arrows. This effectively would let him be able to hit any point in the fort to shoot flaming arrows in caches he could see and provide cover fire for the other three while they dealt with the rest which were under cover. It really was a good plan, simply, easy to remember, and with a low chance of death. That last one was the most important of course.

First though to create some confusion among the ranks so Enu could start his climb up the southern wall and get into the fort and subsequently to the top of the tower.

"You both know the plan?" Altair asked Dante and Marco. The apprentice, Marco, nodded apprehensively, but Dante simply gave a single, confident, jerk of the head and moved off away from the two into position. Altair gave Marco a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "Just do as I told you and everything will be fine," he said. Marco nodded and raced off to his own position.

Altair waited until he couldn't see the other two in the half dark of the fading twilight. Altair did not look to deeply into the religion of Catholicism, and had only been a follower of Islam during his mortal life and a few decades after before deciding it wasn't worth the effort. He did know however that most religions were very superstitious and when things happened they could not explain people would start to panic.

So what better way to cause a panic then to ghost the guards watching the northern gate?

It started with Altair slipping in behind a patrol of guards as they moved around the front gate, staying carefully out of sight and knowing already the guards on the walls weren't paying much attention. To them this job out here was pretty easy and they were lazy. He reached out and carefully picked plucked a dagger from a man in the back's sheath before stealthily shoving him forward and fading back into the long shadows cast by the fort itself and blended into the wall.

The man he'd pushed fell into the one in front of him and very quickly the group was in disarray and there was some bickering and them telling the first to watch his step and not trip. Altair smiled when the man looked behind himself carefully as if expecting to see a ghost.

Perfect.

He went wide around the group and climbed into a tree that lined the area around the fort and waited for the guards to come around. Then snapping his arm forward in a quick motion the dagger flew end over end and landed with a dull thud into the grass before the patrol. They jerked to a halt and there was more then a little confusion and then arguing as the man in the back claimed it as his dagger. They all wanted to know how it got there, obviously, but no one could explain it. So Lucrezia had been telling the truth, this place didn't know they were coming.

Altair spent the next ten or so minutes playing with the patrol until he had them thoroughly terrified of their own shadows and turning their backs on the dark Italian landscape around them.

Once he was done he went towards the wall and effortlessly climbed the wall. The sun's afterglow was gone now and he knew Enu wouldn't move until he got the signal; which Altair hadn't told him anything about other then that "it will be obvious."

The first thing Altair did was douse the lights nearest him. That was the signal for Marco and Dante (who should be on the wall by now) to gut lights as well. On cue after his had gone out several others along the wall went out as well. This of course alerted the guards who started to move towards the doused lights. Bad idea really since all that waited for them was a quick death.

The guard walked right past Altair who knelt in the shadow of the wall, his white robe blending seamlessly into the pale rock and even his red sash was washed out in the light, he'd ditched the mask when Marco had finally left. Silently he rose from behind the guard and tapped him on the shoulder. The man jumped, spun and had time to scream before Altair rammed both of his hidden blades into the man's throat. The scream was the key, well that and what he was about to do.

Standard assassinations included just the use of the hidden blade. But tonight was special. Tonight was about fear and chaos and panic. He knew Machiavelli and Ezio would never agree to his tactics. He knelt next to the body and pulled a butcher knife from his side. He and the others had invaded a nearby town and bought three of them from the local butcher, special for tonight. With a heavy heave of his arm he slammed the heavy knife down; off went the forearm, then the other forearm, then the lower legs. By the time he'd taken the lowermost of each limb as well as the head the smell of blood and feces was practically overpowering, and blood was everywhere except for the front of his robes. He grabbed up the limbs and went back down the wall as another guard approached and ducked into the shadows. They cried out and Altair snuffed more lights as he went in the opposite direction.

He reached the gate and saw Dante was there already, waiting for him, his own collection of body parts at his feet, another guard lay off to the side in the same state as Altair and Dante's first victim; dead, decapitated and limbless. "This is gruesome," Dante said when he said Altair.

"So is killing, yet we do it anyways," Altair said grateful it was to dark to see his face, since he really didn't want to be hampered by his mask right now, "Where is Marco?"

"He should be here soon, the boy is good at following orders, even if he has no confidence. He probably scared himself," Dante laughed softly. From along the wall guards were venturing into the dark spots and finding their slain companions, unrest quickly raced through the guards still one watch. They didn't know what to make of this, they had probably been briefed on how assassin's fought; they were Borgia men, but this was not assassin tactics. And that was exactly the reason Altair had done it. Things that were unknown caused panic.

They only had to wait a few more minutes before Marco appeared, panting and covered in blood clutching two arms, a leg and the head. "Where's his leg?" Dante asked.

"It… fell," Marco's blush was obvious even in the dim light of the slice of the moon. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It is fine Marco," Altair said gently. "It will do for what we are going to do with them."

"Which is what exactly?" Dante asked raising a brow. Altair quickly explained the plan and Dante laughed, Marco just seemed frightened. "You are an evil man Aalam, remind me not to get on your bad side," he told Altair.

"Trust me, if you did get on my bad side you wouldn't know it. You just wouldn't wake up one day," Dante's face was blank, "Not that you have to worry brother," he said and clapped Dante on the back his voice full of good humor. Dante laughed again, though a little worriedly now. "Now then, lets be off, we still need to give Enu time to climb the tower and set up before day break," he said and they nodded, gathered up their body parts and left in different directions.

—

By the time Altair put the head of the guard next to a guard post the unrest and fear was practically palpable in the fort. Everyone who was awake now knew that four of their comrades had been butchered, and the tales from the men on patrol about being harassed by unseen assailants hadn't helped at all. All in all, the guards were on edge; and not in a good way. They were jittery and afraid and several looked like they wanted to bolt. Of course with the men finding the bodies, they eventually had to find the body parts themselves; which he, Dante and Marco had littered across the fort for the guards to find. Which of course led to the question of where had they come from and how had they gotten there.

At least one man while Altair had been about had even screamed of seeing a ghost. He'd done that on purpose, letting the man catch a glimpse of his pale outline before fading back into the shadows. While the guard had come after him there had been nothing for him to find for Altair had already vacated the area, leaving the man chasing a phantom.

All that was left to do was set the guards off into a panic. It wouldn't take to much since they were already pretty scared witless; even the commanders on duty.

Altair found Dante as he headed back to the southern wall. "What's Enu's signal?" he asked Altair.

"This," Altair grinned and produced a small barrel of gun powder he'd filched from an unguarded post.

"Clever," Dante nodded approvingly and they slipped back into the shadows as a guard hustled past them.

"I thought so," Altair replied and ripped a piece of his mask off, rolling it up and shoving it into the barrel's stopper. Dante watched curiously and Altair stepped into the bright light of a lantern, put the wick up to the flame and then rolled it down the street towards a stable before ghosting back to the shadows with Dante to watch the fun. The bomb was just about to go off when Marco appeared out of the darkness and stood next to them, he didn't ask what they were watching, knowing if he waited it would answer itself.

The answer to Marco's unasked question was a fireball as the fire reached the gunpowder and it exploded. The stable caught on fire, horses screamed in panic and more then a few broke out of their pens. Which Altair expected since he'd broken some of the locks as he'd gone around leaving body parts and snuffing lights. Now the confusion was complete and men yelled and ran everywhere in an unorderly fashion, Dante laughed when one of them actually fell over a placed head, looked to see what he'd tripped over and screamed before fainting.

"The Borgia hire such terrible guards," Dante remarked as the three assassins watched the chaos unfold around them. Localized chaos perhaps, only right around the stables were were ablaze; but chaos non the less.

"I see him," Marco pointed and Altair and Dante turned their heads and saw Enu crest the wall, giant bow slung across his back as he made a mad dash to the tower to climb it before order could be restored by the higher commanding officers (who had obviously been sleeping and were now probably pissed).

"Heh, Enu is slow," Dante said as the three shifted position to watch the dark man climb the guard tower. "I thought he was just saying that," indeed, Enu made slow process up the tower but eventually he made it over the lip of the tower and a moment later a man was pushed out of it and was quickly followed by another. After that the tower was silent.

"We should go," Altair said to the others. The higher ups had come out and were whipping their men into shape, and they were highly suspicious of these so called "ghosts". Seemed that the Borgia at least got competent leaders even if their ranks were about as clever as camels. They split up to regroup in the woods outside of the fort and left Enu to witness the rest of the chaos alone.

—

On reflex Altair ducked his head as another weapon cache went off from across the fort. This saved him since he was fighting about six guards (he'd lost count of how many he was fighting at a time after he'd tripped over the first body) and someone from behind him had tried to hack off his head. He replied in turn by taking a throwing knife and ramming it into the guard's forehead causing him to fall back with a shutter eyes rolling back into his head. He didn't look to see the man fall, he'd already turned back to the others and was just in time to deflect a sword strike from one and he twisted his sword around the guard's stepping forward. The man had time for his eyes to widen before Altair raised his left arm and pushed it up through the man's chin. Kicking the guard away he spun to the next, who was stunned by what had just happened that he missed when Altair swung his sword at him and he deflected it with his side. He groaned and sank down to the ground as Altair ripped it out again to catch one of the last few guard's sword across his own with a light curse. He was dealing with one but the other two weren't stupid enough to just let him not get attacked from the other side.

Something whizzed above him and the man he was fighting blinked, looked down at his chest and saw an arrow protruding from just under his throat. He coughed, blood came up and Altair stepped away and out of the splatter before he fell over to the side gasping, trembling and finally falling still. Altair looked around him, the other two had met a similar fate. He smiled and glanced up at the tower where he could see a steady stream of arrows flying from it. He didn't know where Enu had gotten all those arrows; he didn't really care, he was just glad he did since this wasn't the first time this day he'd covered Altair's ass.

He moved away from the collection of bloodied bodies and ran to the last cache he had set off. They'd been at this for half an hour now, each other of them systematically taking out their designated targets that all went up in a fireball.

He found the building and slipped inside, no one was guarding the caches anymore, they were all out looking for him, Dante and Marco and trying not to get shot by Enu who had better aim then even Altair had recognized. "Oh," Altair's eyes widened slightly and he pulled out the letter Lucrezia had given them and looked at what was supposed to be there.

This wasn't.

The Borgia would not be happy he was about to blow up one of their war machines.

Altair grinned and went around and found some barrels of gun powder and placed them systematically around three catapults that looked like nothing Altair had ever seen. But he knew at least that they were indeed catapults. Finally he made a line to a gunpowder out of the building that led to a small pile of the stuff at the base of the catapult and lit it up before running the opposite direction, even barreling through some guards to get away from the blast.

Even at a distance he could feel the shock wave from the blast and looked back to see the entire building was destroyed and he grinned dumbly. Even he had to admit it was fun to watch things be destroyed.

Something shifted behind him and he whirled, hidden blade out and stopped himself just in time to avoid spearing a wide eyed Marco through the throat. "Don't sneak up on me novice," Altair spat as Marco just stood in front of him quivering.

"S-sorry," he stammered and looked down so his gray hood and mask effectively covered his entire face. "I finished my list of assignments," he continued.

"Good, have you seen Dante?"

"His last one was-" there was an explosion from across the fort, "that," finished.

"You go get him, tell him to meet at our horses, I'm going to signal to Enu," Marco nodded and fled while Altair made his way to the guard tower which was still spitting arrows. At least for a few more moments as Altair climbed up onto a building attached to the tower to start his climb and he looked up to see the arrows had stopped. Which could mean two things; Enu had run out of arrows (which he was hopeful for) or that the guards had managed to get up there. He waited a few moments hoping to see Enu appear before he started to worry.

The novice appeared, but not the way Altair had wanted him too. He could see a large red mark on his arm as the novice one handedly jumped up onto the wall of guard post and climbed up onto the roof. The guard yelled and followed after him. Altair cursed, he was to far to be of any assistance, not even he could climb a tower that fast. He looked around and spotted a hay bale, Enu would have to jump, a seemingly impossible thing for a novice to do since they weren't instructed on how to perform a proper Leap until they were ready to become assassins as it was the traditional mark into the Brotherhood, much like the scaring of the ring finger.

But Enu didn't have a choice, there was no way he could climb down one handed, especially now with having to deflect the guard's sword.

Altair called up to him, as loud as he could, the novice's head turned towards the sound; he'd heard but didn't know what to make of it. But he'd heard, that was important. "Jump!" but that got no reaction, other there a flinch from the novice and Altair cursed, he was in the heat of battle, he wasn't hearing Italian anymore. "ENU, DUBABA!" he yelled. That got the novices attention and he looked down for a moment as he ran away from the guard, saw Altair who was smart enough to point at the near hay stack. Altair didn't have to see his face to know Enu was afraid. To take a Leap was to take a chance that you would die.

Enu wasn't given much of a choice as the guard came up behind him, hit him again and made Enu stumble. Altair cursed and cursed and prayed the kid would get it together soon. The last thing he wanted was someone dying on his watch. One Enu had righted himself he glanced at the haystack then with only a second's hesitation he jumped off the tower. Altair leapt off the building he was on and ran over to the haystack his eyes up as he watched Enu fall. His body was clumsy in the air but he managed to right himself in time to hit the hay which was on the other side of a wall which Altair scaled in a few seconds.

Enu was laying in the hay which was turning red from his blood and his clothes were more then a little stained crimson from his own bodily fluids, he had his eyes closed. Altair ran over to the hay stack, scrambled in and slapped Enu's face. His eyes flew open and he looked at Altair with a dazed expression. "_I flew_," he mumbled almost incoherently.

"We need to leave Enu," Altair ordered and pulled Enu out of the hay which stuck to him life erratic feathers on a plucked bird. Enu stumbled but he could stay on his feet, barely. Altair let him sink to the ground and without ceremony yanked open the younger man's shirt hissing as he did at seeing the wound on his torso and knew there was also one on his arm. The dark man flinched when Altair touched him before undoing the man's sash and using it to bind his own wound with it before he closed the shirt back up. The arm would have to wait as the chest wound was much more serious.

"I can stand," Enu managed pushing away Altair's hands, they trembled as he did so and he struggled to his feet, readjusting the giant bow on his back as he did. Altair just watched him. "Okay," he said and his entire frame was trembling slightly.

Altair just nodded and left the haystack, walking quickly, Enu followed as quickly as he could and Altair kept a close eye on him to make sure he didn't fall behind. They kept the shadows mostly before they came to the gate; which was closed. "Can you climb?" Altair asked him but Enu just shook his head.

After telling the novice to stay in the shadows Altair climbed up onto the top of the wall and found the mechanism that opened the gate. Grateful there were no living guards around Altair opened the gate before rushing back down to Enu who was slumped against the wall, eyes closed. He woke when Altair shook him a good bit but he couldn't stand anymore so Altair had to pick him up. Enu protested when Altair took his bow and strapped it across his own back, and he protested even more when Altair leaned down and scooped him up. Altair was actually grateful for the blood loss since it meant the novice couldn't fight back as much since he seemed particularly distressed about being carried as Altair jogged through the gate and was in time to hear that a guard had spotted him; of course.

For one of the few times Altair was glad someone was being an insubordinate because the guard was killed quickly by a crossbow bolt to the neck shot by Dante who was running out to meet the two of the wood's edge. "What happened?" he asked Altair who hadn't stopped moving.

"Guard got into the tower," was all he said panting, Enu wasn't protesting anymore but was instead leaning against Altair, his eyes closed, breathing labored. "How far is the town again?" he asked.

"Half an hour, we can get there in twenty if we ride hard," Dante confirmed as they made it to the woods and made for the horses. He obviously understood that they needed to take Enu to a doctor. "Marco!" he yelled, the novice sat up instant. "Bring Aalam's horse," he barked and the novice stood up quickly and brought the horse for Altair who gave Enu to Dante for a moment as he mounted up and took him back, setting the hurt novice in front of him. "You go, we'll disassemble this place and meet you," he said.

Altair only nodded and kicked his horse into motion, weaving through the trees till they were out on the open landscape. When he urged the horse into a gallop Enu groaned at each jostle of the creature. He needed to get to the town quickly.

—

Altair looked up slightly when two horses stopped in front of the doctor's stoop where he sat. "He is fine," was all he said before Dante could even ask.

"That is good to hear," Dante sighed in relief, "The doctor is still with him?" Altair just nodded at his question. "Very good, I wasn't looking forward to telling our brothers that one of our best marksmen was dead," Altair had to agree with him, though he didn't share it vocally with either assassin or novice.


	4. A Problem Case

The last person Altair wanted to see after having to babysit Lucrezia and Giovanni was Machiavelli. Machiavelli on the other hand had other plans and once he'd returned the young novice to the rooms where the younger novices stayed the hard man was there; waiting for him. "Can I help you Mentor?" Altair asked biting back on his sarcasm at calling Machiavelli the Mentor, the man had assumed the position after Mario's death; that didn't mean he exactly deserved it. At least to Altair.

"Yes, I'd like to discuss your latest mission, assassin," he said and Altair bit his lip, the man didn't even know his own men by name.

"Which one?" he asked, he'd been on at least one other since he had returned from bombing the Borgia weapon cache, not to mention the one just now playing keeper to mother and son.

"The one involving the Borgia weapon cache," he said putting his hands behind his back.

"Very well sir. Is something the matter?"

"I read the reports from Marco and Dante," he started and paused a moment as if expecting Altair to say something; he didn't. "Your techniques are rather… unorthodox," he finally finished.

"The mission was completed, I do not see the problem," Altair said, he should have known Machiavelli would have a stick up his ass about the whole chopping limbs off thing.

"This is not the way the Brotherhood acts," he said eyes narrowing. Altair refrained from scoffing. Machiavelli was an assassin in name only, the entire time Altair had been with Mario he'd never seen this man even draw a sword; let alone kill a man.

"I acted in the interest of keeping my men alive-

"And yet one of them came back to us half dead," he cut in and Altair wanted to punch him. He was good at keep his temper and own arrogance in check but that was like a slap to the face.

"Well he isn't dead," Altair growled.

"Your plan put one of our own in danger-

"Then you must have read the wrong report _Mentor_," now his tone was sarcastic, scathing even. Distantly he noted that he sounded like Malik. "My thinking got my men into the fort undetected and allowed for our marksman to get to his post without harm coming to him. The wounds he sustained were during the fight; which is something to be expected," his mouth twitched in irritation and he was glad Machiavelli couldn't see the sneer that was accompanying the glare he was giving the Mentor. "Perhaps you would have preferred I had led a frontal assault like you are so fond of and risked the life of my men," now it was Machiavelli's turn to flinch.

"The Brotherhood does not condone your actions with what you did to those guards," Machiavelli, it was a shame Machiavelli was a Catholic, since Islam didn't have problems with chopping people's heads off if it was needed.

"I did what was required," Altair said amused by how flustered Machiavelli was getting even though he was the Mentor and Altair was just an assassin. A few novices had noticed the argument, especially since Machiavelli wasn't exactly being quiet to Altair's soft tones, and were watching intently as the red masked assassin seemed to be fighting with the Mentor and it was rather obvious who was winning.

"That does not excuse your actions," Machiavelli hissed.

"_Niente è vero, tutto è permesso_," Altair said, "I do not have to explain myself when the Creed allows me to do as I must," he said. "Please excuse me Mentor, I am late for another arrangement," he bowed his head and left the man standing there, pulling up his hood as he left.

Machiavelli stared after him, fuming and when he turned around catching the novices watching Altair smirked in satisfaction when he heard a harsh snapped, "What are you looking at!"

—

He was sitting down at the end of a joke. He hated that since he always felt like he'd missed something good, especially when everyone was laughing and the person obviously at the butt of the joke looked extremely uncomfortable. "What I miss?" he asked mildly. The group he'd joined was one of mixed novices and assassins. Altair still thought that was weird, mixing novices and full adepts, in his time they'd been kept mainly separate.

"Just some fun at Enu's expense," Dante chuckled. Since the attack on the cache three months ago he'd found that he and the other assassin got along rather well, Dante quick to joke and laugh, Altair quiet and often to wise for his own good, but they got along non the less.

"Oh?" Altair rose his brows and his golden eyes went to the dark man, who had fully recovered from the attack at the fort. He had his face in his hands and looked terribly embarrassed, "I must hear this," he said, Enu just groaned miserably.

Francesco, who Altair knew was one of Enu's close friends, finally took his hands off his laughing mouth so he could say (in about as reserved a tone as he could manage), "Enu is going to die a virgin is what."

Altair blinked and looked at him confused, "Excuse me?"

"You don't have to tell him Vecellio," Enu cried beside himself throwing his hands down to look at Francesco and even with his dark skin you could see red around the thin flesh at the ends of ears when he went to say.

Francesco opened his mouth again but suddenly winced and looked uncomfortable as if he was in pain. Altair looked between the friends then at Dante and asked calmly, "What is it?"

"It is Enu's birthday this week, he's twenty three and still a virgin," Dante said with a laugh.

"You traitor," Enu groaned miserably and put his head back into his hands, Dante, Francesco and the two other novices Altair wasn't quite clear on the names of laughed at the poor novice.

"That's… unfortunate," Altair said smirking under his mask, humor in his eyes. At least he had the dignity to not laugh. "Perhaps though instead of laughing at the poor novice we should fix this," he suggested innocently.

"Oh?" Dante asked raising his blonde brows.

"I can think of at least one place that would be happy to help our friend here with his problem," he said looking sidelong at the assassin, the novices were listening looking eager. They weren't allowed to go to brothels in the city… at least not on their own and were "supervised" by their betters. Even Enu was looking at them, though it was between a few fingers.

"Do tell my friend," Dante played along in an effort to drag out the answer since the novices looked far to excited for their own good. "For you're right, we shouldn't mock. Aren't we all problem solvers? Tell me, how can we fix our brother's problem?"

"Its a little out of the way," Altair said thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair, ignoring the novices, "But I think it's just what Enu could use," he flicked his eyes at the dark man who tried to not look like he was staring.

"Do I know this place? Come brother tell me already," Dante sighed theatrically.

"You may brother. It's called the Rosa in Fiore."


	5. Problem Solvers

This chapter/story has been removed or edited because it contains mature material.

You can find the story/full unedited chapter on my AO3 under the name Xazz.

* * *

Altair wasn't the biggest fan of brothels. But he could appreciate Rosa in Fiore for what it was and its alternative purposes; which was yet another base for the Brotherhood in the city and it did very well under the guidance of Claudia Auditore who after years taking care of the villa knew more than a thing or two about running a business.

The courtesans were more then happy to flock over to the assassins as soon as they appeared, the novices seemed a little shy at first since they weren't "supposed" to be here. But after being told several times that no one but them was there they relaxed and finally allowed Altair to buy everyone a drink since they were acting like ninnies and not apprentice assassins.

A few rounds of drink later the lady of Rosa in Fiore appeared, apparently she'd heard they were here. By the look on her face it was obvious she was hoping to see her brother there but kept up a good act as she welcomed them all before catching sight of Altair.

"Aalam, I did not know you were one to visit these sorts of places," she rose a brow.

"I am here for my friend," Altair reached over and patted Enu on the back causing him to snort his drink out of his nose and back into his cup making everyone laugh. "To make sure this rowdy bunch doesn't get him to drunk as a birthday celebration," he gave them all looks and all the novices looked away inconspicuously, Dante was still busy laughing at Enu.

"I see," Claudia said a smile on her face, "Well I hope you all enjoy yourselves," she said giving Altair a look as she left. Once she was gone Claudia was gone Altair excused himself saying he needed to visit the lavatory and found his way back into the pleasure house to the back gardens. Claudia was sitting at a table going over some papers, looking busy and pretended not to see or hear him.

"You seemed disappointed to see me," Altair said coming up to her slowly.

"I did not recognize you is all," she huffed and looked at him, propping her chin up on her palm, the same way she had while working over the villa's books. "You did not wear a mask before you came here," she rolled her eyes slightly.

Altair chuckled, "If you do not like it then for you my lady I'll pull it down," and he did, she just grinned at him and got up before going over to hug him. Because of his relationship with Mario also had a good relationship with Claudia, he didn't mind her flirting but he thought of her more of a younger sister even if she was "older" than him.

"You're as bad as Ezio," she told him sternly, "Come to Rome and it is like I don't exist," she folded her arms.

"Forgive me Claudia, I have been very busy," he supplied helplessly, "As Ezio has been."

"A boring excuse," she huffed.

"Then here's the exciting one," his lips twitched slightly in amusement, "I was busy blowing up an entire fort holding Borgia weapons, and have been busy babysitting a Borgia brat."

"Did you really blow up a fort?" she asked excitedly.

"I and two of the men your girls are currently entertaining yes," he said.

"And were you being entertained?" she asked him stepping up close to him again.

Altair picked his words carefully, not to insult nor to give her the wrong impression. "I am the chaperone for that group of mooks," he told her and she giggled.

"So there is nothing here that at all gives the mysterious Aalam interest?" she asked coyly.

"You would be the first to know Claudia, I assure you," he told her, that seemed to please her and she looked over his shoulder her eyes flickering with minor alarm. "You're brother is right behind me isn't he?"

"Yes he is," Ezio practically growled, Altair turned away from Claudia, surreptitiously pulling up his mask as he did so it was fixed back into place by the time he faced Ezio. All Altair could see of the man's face was a disapproving frown. Claudia moved back to her table.

"Hello Ezio," Altair lowered his head slightly.

"May I speak with you brother?" he asked his voice sounding calm but he was still frowning.

"Of course, till we meet again Lady Claudia," he gave her a small wave, which she returned before following the assassin back into the pleasure house.

"You seem to get along well with my sister Aalam," Altair was close enough to see under the shade of his hood and got to watch his eye twitch. Despite never visiting his sister he was a good brother it seemed and didn't want guys all over her.

"I've known her for several years," he bobbed his head in admittance at the same time there was a cheerful roar from the room where the novices and Dante still waited for him, a few whistles followed the roar before it fell silent.

"How?"

"We lived in the same general area of each other?" Altair said as if it was obvious. "I was Mario's disciple, I saw her fairly often," he said. "She is a very smart young woman, but I have no interest in her," he said since he knew that was exactly what Ezio was probably worried about. The other assassin seemed to relax slightly at that and Altair actually laughed at him. "Please Ezio, I value my life to much to try and court your sister," and he clapped Ezio on the shoulder, the man's lips twitched before pulling into a smile.

"You are clearly wiser then that novice I found here last week then," Ezio said.

"Give me his name," Altair said, "We can wish his death together," and Ezio chuckled before telling him. "I know him, he is very arrogant, I hope you put him in his place brother," he bobbed his head.

"Perhaps not enough," Ezio looked to the side.

"Rest assured; you can leave the rest to me. Now then, since this confusion has been taken care off I have to get back to work-

"Drinking and women?" Ezio asked.

"What else do you do at Rosa in Fiore?" Altair asked right back and stepped around the man back down the hall where the others were waiting.

—

When he returned he noticed both one novice and Enu were missing. "Was that noise I heard you lot?" he asked them as he sat back down and picked up his drink.

"It was when Enu was dragged out by three girls once they knew it was his birthday," another novice said.

"And a virgin," Francesco supplied with a wicked grin. "Lucky fool."

Altair just chuckled and the other missing novice stumbled back into the room, very obviously drunk. They continued to drink, happy that Altair said he would be paying for drinks, and the younger men were happy to be fawned over by the lovely courtesans. Eventually the women managed to drag each of the novices out of the room, several of them giggling drunkenly leaving Altair and Dante alone with about five women to continue drinking.

"I feel old," Dante said to Altair who after a moment of trying to keep his composure burst into laughter. The idea that Dante thought he was old was endlessly amusing.

"Trust me brother, you are not old," he said after managing to stop laughing.

"Next to them I do," he huffed and sipped more wine, obviously be meant the novices. "Or even you brother; you're younger then me," he sent Altair almost an accusing look.

"I apologize?" he asked making Dante chuckle, "If it makes you feel better brother I'm sure these lovely ladies here would be more then happy to make you feel young again," and the two courtesans hanging off Dante giggled and sent him flirtatious glances.

"You're probably right," Dante said and not five minutes later he was gone.

"And what about you?" asked one of the courtesans, she had an unimaginably beautiful voice.

"I said when I first came here, I am merely a chaperone," he said which caused her to frown and pout and she and the others tried to entice him. "If you'll excuse me," he pushed them away and got up from the couch much to their annoyance and left the room and wandered out of the brothel, hands behind his head. It wasn't that he disliked women, he really didn't have a preference, he just preferred more out of sex then just sex. When he'd been younger it hadn't really mattered but Altair hadn't thought of himself as young in centuries and he found he'd rather have people he enjoyed around him then just mindlessly having sex like those novices were doing right now.

The Italian sun felt good when he left the shade of the building and unlike the sun in the Holy Land it wasn't relentless and overbearing, making there be no temperature change throughout the day. He'd heard people complain about the summer heat here in Italy, but to him it felt nice. The people here were to soft, used to their temperate climate.

Blue flickered in his periphery as he walked past a bench and he turned, more then a little surprised to see Enu sitting there, his arms on his knees, head low. He was dressed in just his pants and undershirt and looked deflated. "Enu?" he asked startling the novice.

"Ah, Aalam," he said looking extremely nervous when he looked at him.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Uh-

"Three girls not enough for you?" he joked.

Enu just put his head down and rubbed his face, "No… I panicked," he admitted as if admitting it was the worst thing he could ever do in his life.

"Ah," Altair felt a bit bad for him, "Well there's no one inside. Why don't you come back in?" he suggested and offered the novice his hand. Enu looked at it for a few moments between his gloveless fingers before reaching out and taking it. Altair hauled him up from the bench with little difficulty and with a friendly pat on the shoulder showed him back inside.

—

"Hey, Aalam," Enu said, his words were a little slurred when he looked down into the neck of the bottle of wine.

"What?" Enu wasn't the only one who's words were a little slurred.

"I think we're out of wine," he stared at the table where there were several other bottles, all of them tipped over on their sides, taunting them. While waiting for the others they'd drunken three bottles between themselves as they leaned against each other, more using the other to keep themselves propped up than anything else at this point so they didn't fall over.

"That is a shame," Altair said mournfully and without warning stood up causing Enu to fall over with an undignified yelp of surprise before he started laughing at absolutely nothing. Thankfully Altair didn't fall as he made his way over to the door and opened it catching the eye of one of the workers and requesting more wine before ducking back in. "What?" he asked, Enu was staring at him; just staring, head slightly tilted to the side looking surprisingly alert for how much wine they'd drunk. "Do I have something on my shirt?" he looked down patting himself down even though he was very sure he didn't.

"No," Enu said looking away once he'd been caught staring and leaned away when Altair sank back down next to him with a sigh. "Where the hell is that wine?" he asked after several silent moments.

"That is a very good question," Altair bobbed his head just as the door opened and a courtesan with giant breasts and a waist that looked to thin to be real came in with a few more bottles of wine and set them down. Enu was looking elsewhere as the woman smiled at them and said something flirty. She made to sit down but Altair stopped her, "Thank you; that will be all," he said and she looked particularly irritated but didn't say anything, instead marching back to the door and closing it loudly. "Nosy ass woman," Altair grumbled and grabbed one of the new bottles and pulled the stopper out and took a deep swig before handing it over to Enu.

Enu took it and leaned back and over his shoulder resting against Altair's as he tipped his head back to drink. As he handed the bottle back to Altair he asked, "Are you a Catholic?"

"Fuck no," Altair grumbled and pressed the opening of the bottle to his lips under his red mask.

"So then your a Muslim," Enu concluded.

"Was once," he took another sip and handed the bottle back to Enu who stared into it for a few seconds before taking a drink. "What about you?" he tapped the large silver cross at the base of Enu's throat.

"Just a prop," he said, "So I'm not a heathen," he spat the word then laughed dryly, "My nonno, who raised me, is Lutheran, but pretends to be Catholic, I was born Muslim," he stared at Altair.

"So you are-?"

"None," he said, "None of them accept people like me," he seemed especially bitter about that and looked away irritably which just confused Altair's drunken mind; though he was sure in his right mind it would have made sense.

"So Lutherans and Catholics are racists, Islam doesn't care," and snatched the bottle back from Enu and took a deep drink. Enu didn't answer him, he pushed the bottle back at Enu who still looked annoyed, "Do you believe in God?"

"Perhaps," Enu drank, passed it back to Altair.

"Well I don't," Enu stared when he said that. "If he existed there wouldn't be a need for our Brotherhood now would there?" he tipped the neck of the bottle at Enu before taking a drink. "God is against evil, yet there is much in the world. A true God wouldn't make a world so unjust, so unfair to those who find different ways of living," another drink and shoved the bottle at Enu who held it looking pensive before draining it.

They moved onto the next bottle following a different strain of conversation, this one followed more mundane topics, like weapons. After a long, drunken, conversation about different styles of swords in which they didn't drink through an entire bottle it changed again to them complaining about their brothers and sisters. There was certainly much for the both of them to complain about and Enu even mentioned that his friend Francesco was going to die when they got back to Tiber Island. When Altair asked why Enu just said that a woman, Tessa, was going to kill him… slowly.

As they neared the end of the third bottle of wine Enu asked, "Why do you wear a mask?" he was staring at Altair lazily now and leaning fully against him, body pressed tight against him.

"Because it makes me look mysterious," Altair said bluntly and after a few seconds of staring at each other burst into laughter until their sides hurt. Altair did some cursing in Arabic, "Really it's dumb," he said and probably only because he was drunk yanked down his mask and pressed the bottle to his lips. "Damn thing always makes my face hot," he made a face that made Enu laugh, "Though it isn't as bad as when I was a novice," somehow despite being fairly drunk he managed to sound thoughtful. "Masks in desert heat suck," he muttered half in Arabic. Enu didn't seem to notice, he was to busy staring at Altair. "What? Do I have something on my face?" he rubbed his face with his hand and only felt the familiar scar on his lips.

"N-no," Enu stammered but didn't look away.

"Here, finish this," Altair pushed the last bottle at him and he noticed Enu's hands were trembling. "You all right brother?" he asked managing to not be as drunk as he really was at the moment for the novice's sake.

"I- yes," he stammered and finally turned away, looking up as he drank the last of the wine. "So why do you wear a mask?" he asked again once again staring at Altair.

"Because that idiot Ezio has my face," he said and snorted, "Stupid child," Enu didn't comment that Ezio was older then Altair.

"I don't think he does," Enu said. "He's to… old," he said and Altair laughed.

"I'm telling him you called him old Cipriano," he teased and poked Enu in the side making him flinch away as if ticklish.

"Please don't," he gasped.

"What? Tell Ezio he's old or do this-" and he poked Enu again, the younger man squirmed away from Altair.

"Both!" he cried when Altair continued to "torment" him eventually falling off the couch laughing.

"But it's fun," Altair grinned and slid down to the floor as well and pinned the novice so he could only squirm while he continued to assault his flanks.

"Aalam!" he cried trying to get away and Altair's brows rose when he felt something press up from under him. Even drunk Enu looked ridiculously embarrassed since it was very obvious they both knew what it was.

"So that's why you aren't religious," Altair grinned and he could see red even though the dark pigmentation on Enu's cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Enu said embarrassed.

"For what?" Altair looked down at him, Enu was looking away, head turned. Enu didn't say anything except give a start when Altair slid one of his hands up his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Enu demanded looking genuinely startled by what he was doing.

"Enjoying myself, novice," Altair grinned and leaned down pressing his lips to Enu's dark mouth making his gasp and shiver which Altair could feel spread under the palm of his hand. He felt Enu's long fingered hands grasp at the front of his shirt tightly as Altair allowed his fingers to trail along the worked muscles of the dark man's chest. "So shut up and enjoy it," he breathed and slipped his fingers up and undid the buttons of his shirt from the inside out.

"Yes sir?" he asked and Altair chuckled before running his tongue along Enu's neck making him shiver again.

Eventually they picked themselves up off the floor fixing their clothes back into place. If they hadn't been drunk the silence would have been a bit uncomfortable, but since they were it was hardly noticeable.

While they waited for their brothers Enu fell asleep, leaning against Altair who just grinned at him and put his arm around him. This had definitely not ended the way he'd thought it would.


	6. Poisonous Intentions

For those of you wondering if this is ever going to be an Altair/Ezio fic I can tell you right now... no, it isn't. _That_ _being said_ at this point in where the story is (which is three chapters ahead of what you're currently reading) I could basically pair Altair with anyone very easily. I posed this question to the anons on the kinkmeme, and now I'm posing it to my readers. Who do YOU want to see Altair paired with. Some pairings are kinda... impossible so don't make stupid suggestions, use your brain and you should be fine though.

Oh, and in case it isn't terribly obvious; I hate Machiavelli, he's a dick in game and in real life. There is a reason he got run out of Italy people. And it's why I write him and Alty always going at it, that and it's fun as fuck to have Altair fuck with the "_il Mentore"._ Pffft, right.

* * *

Free running exercises were probably one of the funniest tortures instructors got to inflict upon novices of the Brotherhood; which was possibly why Altair loved them so much. He wasn't a novice and he was the one inflicting the torture at the request of one of the proper instructors. This one was pretty strait forward, the novices had to get one of the blue pouches attached to three other skilled assassins without falling off a building and without being seen.

Altair was making it as difficult as possible and performed moves that were nearly impossible for full adepts let alone some pathetic little novice, some of who were still learning the ropes of the Rome rooftops. What made him hard to catch was his zero hesitation and his lack of fear as he threw himself over wide gaps between buildings and spinning just at the edges of buildings. He'd almost caused more than one novice to fall off a building before he yanked back on their hoods and left the tired, panting novices sprawled on the roofs watching his form vanish over the rises and dips of the rooftops.

As the sun reached its zenith not one novice was even close to getting close enough to Altair to snatch his bag from him. So what did he do as the remaining three novices who hadn't captured a bag from the two other assassins?

He taunted them of course.

Altair crouched above the three novices who were staring up at him, no doubt wondering how he'd gotten to the top of a fifteen foot high metal smoke stack. He just watched them, head cocked to the side a bit. "You going to come up or what? The view's great," he said.

"That isn't fair," one novice said, his voice hadn't changed yet; he was young.

"Your teacher didn't say I had to be fair," Altair grinned under his mask.

One of the others though was now attempting to climb the stack. He made it about five feet before falling and Altair continued to berate the three novices who were growing more and more frustrated by the moment. Finally the instructor came over to see why it was he couldn't see the novices zipping across the roofs chasing Altair. "Really Aalam?" she asked putting her hands on her hips in a way that made Altair blink hard to remove the ghost image he saw over her form.

"I think it's fun," he said his voice full of mirth.

"Taunting my students isn't part of the exercise," she sighed.

"Far more entertaining then running all over the place," he told her shrugging. "Though if you say so," and stood up on the stack, the novices watched him, all of them eager to get their prize and not be assigned to armor cleaning for the next week.

"Please don't make their lives _to_ difficult," she added.

"So I can make it marginally difficult?" she laughed and nodded at him. His reply was to backflip off the stack and onto a building face that had a ledge to high to reach from below and seemed to far to jump without falling. "Coming?" he asked the novices and turned towards the building to finish his climb up the building and he could hear them give a cry of outrage before they scrambled after him.

—

"Master Aalam?" a novice approached him as he was pulling off the outer layers of his clothes. He grunted in acknowledgement and put his head under a fountain. After a long day of running all over Rome he was how and wanted to wash before dinner. "Master Ezio is calling for you," he said and Altair pulled his head quickly from the water which made his mask stick to his face uncomfortably.

"What?"

"Master Ezio is calling for you," said the novice again and Altair quickly did some mental math. It was to soon for him to have to babysit the Borgia, and it was to late in the day besides. So what did Ezio want?

"I'll be there shortly," and he shooed away the novice before quickly going back into one of the hidden entrances to the hideout and made his way to where he had his room and changed out of his damp, foul smelling clothes into new ones securing his mask properly as he made his way to the main hub where assignments, finances and other administrative processes took place.

He spotted Ezio immediately, for he was one of the only people in the building, which was odd since usually the place was crawling with the comings and goings of novices and adepts alike. He noticed Ezio's companions a few seconds after; Machiavelli, and a man he only recognized from being told what he looked like though had never met him, La Volpe.

Brows furrowed he approached the small group carefully, "You called for me brother?" he asked coming up to Ezio.

"Ah, there he is," Ezio grinned slightly and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Who is this?" La Volpe asked and Altair fixed his golden eyes on him, another set of strange eyes looked back from under his hood; purple. Altair hadn't met many people with purple eyes before, but they always tended to have interesting lives.

"This is Aalam, the man I told you about with the Borgia fort," Ezio supplied.

"Ah, very nice work then," La Volpe's lips twitched in amusement while Machiavelli just continued to look bitter about the incident.

"What did you call me here for?" Altair asked curiously.

"Ezio has told me about your track record for the… unorthodox," Altair hated that word. These men had no idea that what they called "unorthodox" had been perfectly acceptable practices years before their time. They just happened to grow into disfavor as the Church got more powerful and people started to really worry about their souls in the after life.

"I don't deny it," Altair said.

"We have a problem that could use your _expertise,_" Machiavelli said particularly sarcastic though only if you were paying attention. Altair didn't respond to him, and in fact didn't acknowledge the man was even there, which didn't do any good for his mood.

"It involves the Borgia," Ezio said.

"What doesn't?" Altair turned to look at Ezio.

"We've known of a particular practice Cesare seems to enjoy," Ezio went on, "Taking Borgia prisoners and killing them himself for his own amusement with a crossbow," Altair just blinked and continued to remain silent. It was not an unheard of practice for those of noble birth who held to much power. "But there isn't much we can do to stop him. If we free the prisoners, he can just get more, if we kill the guards, they can be replaced."

"And you can't just kill a Borgia," Altair finished, Ezio nodded, "Why do you need my help?"

"Any suggestions?" La Volpe asked.

Altair just grinned, "If you will listen brothers," was his only reply, they nodded (even Machiavelli who did so grudgingly. "How are the prisoners transported?" Ezio told him by locked cart. After a few more simple questions he had finished the plan, it was one he'd used before in a similar situation. "We'll just have Cesare kill his own guards," he said but the other three looked confused, before they could ask he continued. "Find a way to switch the places of the prisoners and the guards and have our own men lead them into Cesare's death trap," he said. "He will take care of the problem for you and then when he realizes who the men were he will not be pleased. Do it enough and he'll be to wary that he may be killing his own men to continue."

"That is-

"Barbaric," Machiavelli interrupted La Volpe.

"Strong words," Altair said in a mutter. "You asked for my advice, that is it," he said louder.

"I do not agree with Machiavelli," La Volpe said, "I think it is a good plan," he looked at Altair a moment then at Ezio.

"So we would be no better then the Borgia themselves," Machiavelli said, "Killing innocents is not the way of the Brotherhood," Altair cursed to himself in Arabic, the others didn't seem to notice, sadly Machiavelli's words did sound proper.

"Nor is allowing the slaughter of prisoners of war," Altair said. "We are assassins _il Mentore_; not priests," he stared at Machiavelli his gaze level and unchallenging. "It is our duty to protect the innocent from the Templars; even at the cost of the men who serve them, innocent though they may be they still serve the power we strive to defeat."

"He has a point Machiavelli," La Volpe said, "The death of a few for the lives of many," he nodded, the sienna dressed man was on Altair's side in this. Altair liked the man already.

"And how do you plan on keeping them from telling Cesare not to kill them because of who they are?" Machiavelli challenged Altair.

"That is a simple fix. Cut their tongues out so they can't speak."

"A bit bloody, but not a terrible idea," La Volpe.

"You actually agree with this man La Volpe?" Machiavelli demanded.

"He is thinking about how to unsettle the Borgia. What is better then to have their own guards appear for a slaughter? Odd tactics often work well in a situation we are not prepared for," he told Machiavelli.

"We should simply kill Cesare when he comes out to shoot," Machiavelli grumbled,there he went with his single minded drive to destroy the Borgia.

"Killing on man won't stop the Templars," Altair cut in, Machiavelli sent him a sharp look but it didn't stop him from speaking. "It has been tried before. You may kill the men you want on a list; but there will always be others to take their place. Isn't that right Ezio?" he looked at the man who till now had been quiet. He watched an almost impersevablse tremor travel along the man's left arm, making his cape twitch just slightly. Ezio understood what he meant though the other two seemed just mildly confused. "To destroy the Templars and the Borgia you need to root their power out from the bottom. Cutting off a flower does not kill a weed, it merely helps stop it spreading, you need to uproot it to ensure the blight stops spreading for good." Not even Machiavelli could say anything to that, mainly because the logic was sound, and he was nothing if not a logical man.

"Well said brother," La Volpe grinned slightly. "So we're all agreed then?" he asked them.

"I still don't like it," Machiavelli growled.

"We must sometimes do what we must to do what we want to do Machiavelli," La Volpe shot at the man and Altair could taste the bad blood on the older man's tongue though it was mild, well hidden. Still if you listened it was clear the thief did not trust the head assassin.

"We have several assassins who specialize in poisons," Ezio remarked finally, "a knock out poison for the switch and then they could lead them to Cesare," Machiavelli looked away, he'd been outed now that Ezio had made his say. At least the man knew his place enough that if Ezio made a decision that was what would happen.

Good.

—

If the novice had been startled when someone suddenly grabbed him and shoved him against the wall of an alcove he was positively alarmed when he saw who it was. "A-Aalam," Enu stammered.

"You've been avoiding me brother," Altair said sternly eyes dark under his hood.

"I-I have not," he said, liar.

"Yes you have."

Altair watched his mouth work for a few seconds, no doubt trying to think of something to say. "I'm sorry," he said Altair was about to say something but he continued, "about what happened at Rosa in Fiore."

"Why?"

"We're men."

"And?" his tone let him know he had no problem with this, challenging him to come up with a better excuse then such a boring one.

"It's against God," he said and Altair actually sighed.

"Cipriano," he said, that made him press against the wall away from him, "Is God perfect?" he already knew the answer to the questions he was asking but was asking them anyway.

"Yes, of course."

"And he is doesn't that mean that all he creates is perfect in their own ways?" he asked.

Enu was silent for a few seconds before slowly saying; "Yes."

"So then why do you think God would make anything so imperfect that it would go against him?" he asked, Enu didn't have an answer for that.

"I need to go," Enu said softly, "I have a mission," at least he didn't look away.

"Come see me when you return," he said pulling down his mask and pressing his lips to the novice's. He practically melted against the wall and returned the favor his hands braced against Altair's forearms but didn't push away. When Altair pulled away he nodded and stumbled out of the alcove continuing the way he'd been going, now with progressively less of a slump in his shoulders.

* * *

Daaaang, more Legacy references in here. If you've played the game and have gotten to the third chapter in Rome you know _exactly_ what is happening and know what event I'm going to have to be writing which made me very sad to play :(


	7. In a Shroud of Wings

I think someone said something about more La Volpe? Oh, don't worry pet; there will be more La Volpe. In fact, he gets a nice scene in this chapter!

Also, I admit, there is a character in here that while is canon... I didn't think he had a name before I wrote him in; so I gave him one -shot- Lechezette's position in the Order IS canon... his name is something I came up with _ He sounds very French doesn't he? Well I guess that's good since he's kinda of a weirdo, and the French tend to be weird...

* * *

Altair didn't even know he was capable of tripping anymore. He had to much balance to trip. Or so he thought because he didn't know what else to call it when he practically fell out bed from having to get around a body in the way of his normal movements. The body didn't even seem to notice, or move when Altair clambered over them "tripping" but still managed to land on his feet as whoever had woken him up (way to damn early as far as he was concerned) was still knocking on his door.

Grouchily he yanked on a pair of pants and a shirt, vaguely noting only one article of clothing actually belonged to him, and finally answered the door. "What?" he demanded irritably at the poor novice waiting on the other side of the door. "This better be good novice," he growled at the boy, cause really it was just a boy, not even old enough for a hood.

"Letter for you Master Aalam," his voice shook and held out an envelope. An actual real envelope, not a tiny carrier pigeon scroll.

"Go," Altair growled and snatched the message from the novice who darted away quickly and Altair closed the door still barely awake, but awake enough to recognize the seal on the back of the message. It was from a fellow member of the Brotherhood, which was odd since Altair didn't commune with anyone outside of Rome anymore unless he needed to, and such messages like these never came from inside the city. There wasn't a need when there were carrier pigeons.

He grabbed one of his throwing knives (he was pretty sure it was his at least) off the floor from a sheath and used it to pop the seal of the letter and sat down at the desk. He knew sleep now would be impossible since he could never fall back asleep once awake so he wiped away the last of the sand in his eyes and unfolded the message.

His brows went up briefly before snapping back down in annoyance. The very last thing he wanted to do right now was read coded Italian, even simple coded Italian. He muttered under his breath irritably, using curse words from all the different languages he knew (and he knew _a lot_). Still better training told him to do it now since it may contain time sensitive information. Damn all of his long years of training to hell.

He reached over for a sheet of paper and a pen before going over the coded message. As he worked his brain started to function properly and the task became easier till he was almost half way finished. As he did so the body on his bed finally stirred. There was some shuffling behind him he did his best to ignore as he continued to decode the message and a few moments later he felt long, warm, fingers on his shoulders.

"What's that?" Enu asked.

"Not for your eyes," Altair said using his hand to cover over his translation; which he'd written in Arabic.

"I can't read Arabic," Enu explained and one of his hands traced the subtle lines along the top of his shoulders and neck. Altair focused back on his work, glad the novice wasn't being a distraction, since he'd found over the past few days that the novice could prove to be a giant one when he decided he wanted to be. As he finished the last line of his translation Enu plucked at the silver chain around Altair's neck, "I never did picture you wearing jewelry Aalam," his breath was hot against Altair's ear and he repressed a shiver.

"Heirloom," he said distractedly as Enu spun the small key shaped charm in his large dark hands as Altair read his uncoded message. The key was only about as big as his middle finger and was made of some sort of metal darker then silver with tiny grooves all the way around.

"It's very… pretty," Enu decided at last letting it drop back down onto Altair's chest where it found its place on a calloused piece of skin at the top of his sternum. Altair couldn't remember the last time he'd taken the damn thing off, he didn't even feel it on his skin anymore it had been there for so long, only not when the chain broke. With his decision he pulled away from Altair, "Can I have my shirt back?" he asked as he sat on the bed.

"In a second," he muttered, just loud enough to be heard, but was to busy reading what he'd written his eyebrows slowing going up to meet his hairline.

He grabbed the encrypted message, proceeded to rip it up and then tossed it into the waste bin before folding the one in Arabic over so no one could read it. Not that it would do anyone in Italy much good, since only scholars read Arabic in order to read Plato and Aristotle and other great works they'd managed to get back from the Middle East.

"Here," he pulled off the borrowed shirt and threw it at Enu, it ended up striking him in the face. He didn't look though and was busily pulling on fresh clothes, his mind going over what he'd just read and being worried and fascinated by it at the same time.

"Something wrong?" Enu asked.

"No," Altair said.

"Where are you going then?" Altair was buckling on his weapons when Enu asked his question.

"I need to go speak with someone."

"Is it about the message you got?"

"Yes, now stop being nosy, you sound like a woman," Altair shot the shirtless novice a look and he just shrugged.

"So I guess I need to leave?" he asked once Altair had all his clothes in order and he wondered why his heart was beating faster. It wasn't fear, Altair wasn't afraid of anything. So it wasn't nerves either. Was it… excitement? Maybe.

"Just lock the door when you leave," Altair grabbed up his message and tossed something at Enu who caught it easily. It was a key, only unlike the one around Altair's neck this one had teeth.

"Okay," Enu beamed at him after looking at the steel key in his hand as Altair pulled up both his mask and hood. Altair just nodded at him then left the novice in his room.

—

Since Altair refused to talk to Machiavelli about anything, especially something like the information in the message he'd received, it meant Altair had to find someone else to question about a certain name. Asking Ezio wouldn't help, he'd been in Venice at the time anyway, not that he'd know much at all regardless. It's what lead him to the edge of the city, far from Tiber Island, facing the refurbished building of the Thieves Guild.

Climbing out from the dark sewers left Altair's eyes straining in the sun's light and he went into the building quickly where his eyes adjusted to the less bright light inside the building. The thieves were obvious in the place, and several were engaged in a game of dice, but there were also many regular civilians. It seemed the place wasn't just an inn in name, but in function as well.

"What can I do for you assassin?" the barkeep asked when Altair sat there, he had a face that was easy on the eyes but eyes like dagger blades.

"I'm looking for La Volpe."

"That so? And who should I say is calling?" he eyed Altair warily and the assassin didn't blame him. Thieves were wary by nature, quick to flee without the right incentive (be it coin or loyalty or honor), and loyal to no one but themselves and each other.

"Aalam, he'll know me," Altair said simply and leaned one arm on the bar, relaxed. The thief seemed more at ease seeing an assassin so undisturbed and left the bar, vanishing into the back.

A few minutes later a hand clasped Altair's shoulder, "We meet again sooner than I expected," La Volpe said. Was he getting old? He seriously hadn't heard the other man come up to him.

"Hello brother," Aalam nodded at the sienna dressed man. "I was wondering if I could ask you a question."

"It must be a good one if you'd come all the way here to ask it," La Volpe said, "I will if you'll answer one for me," he had a mysterious grin on his face and Altair didn't know if he liked it or not.

"I suppose that's fair," Altair nodded.

"Ask away then," La Volpe sat next to him.

"What's the story behind Perotto Calderon?" he asked and got to watch La Volpe's mouth fold down into a frown.

"Where did you hear that name Aalam?" he asked.

"Is that the question you wanted to ask me?"

"Heh, no," La Volpe said, marginally amused. "Why do you want to know?"

"If you won't tell me I'll go look elsewhere," he meant to get up but La Volpe grabbed his arm. Altair gave him a look.

"I'll tell you," La Volpe said and Altair sat back down. La Volpe sighed before saying, "Calderon was one of our brothers, he was one of our best marksmen, no one in the Brotherhood could match his skill. Before Ezio came to Rome Mario sent him to spy on the Borgia, knowing they were a threat before any of us. I still don't know how he knew," La Volpe frowned again, "He posed as a courier between Rodrigo and his daughter who was in a convent, nunnery… something along that lines.

"Unfortunately our brother Calderon betrayed us. He ended up getting to… attached to his target. They had a child," obviously La Volpe could see the widening of Altair's eyes even in the shadow of his hood for he nodded slowly. "He then did something, very foolish and forced our hand to move against him. We were forced to track him down and kill him, but not before he killed several of us."

Altair knew better then to ask what it was Perotto had done that was foolish, since La Volpe wouldn't answer him, not to just any assassin. He didn't blame him though. "Thank you for telling me," he said instead. "Now what is your question?"

"How did you lose the finger on your left hand?" Altair didn't flinch when the question came out. He'd been asked the question more than once over his career in the Brotherhood, especially because what it meant.

"My father decided I was a particularly lazy child, so decided to teach me a lesson he would cut off my fingers. He only got to take one off before my brother interfered," he said.

"A strange finger to start with," La Volpe said.

"My father was a strange man," Altair agreed. "Thank you for the information La Volpe," he slid off the stool.

"If I may Aalam, why did you want to know about Calderon?" he asked turning as the assassin made to leave.

"Just following some advice," he said and left the inn.

—

Altair watched the youngest of the novices playing in the courtyard. They were the younger siblings or children of current assassins, several of them from old families who Altair was sure could trace their lineage as far back as the Auditore's. They were to young for the hood, and practiced with wooden weapons when they were old enough. For now it was just the children doing exercises that almost seemed like games. He watched them in his second sight and blue blurs ran back and forth across the courtyard, playing a game similar to capture the flag, only with obstacles to get in their way and short things to climb.

But his eyes were trained on one boy as he was tackled by one of his fellows who wrestled the flag from his hands and then ran off once more. The boy was a dark void rimmed in blue, and now Altair finally knew why. The message from the morning and the information La Volpe had given him (limited as it was) had let him piece together the mystery of Giovanni Borgia. Well Giovanni Calderon would perhaps be more appropriate but that wasn't for Altair to decide. It hadn't been that difficult after all, maybe if you weren't to clever it could prove more difficult but you didn't stay undetected for so long as Altair did by not being clever.

Well… most of the time he was clever. The nagging Malik sounding voice in the back of his head never failed to remind him of his short comings. It went far in keeping him from getting to big a head.

Finally the instructor halted the "game" and told the kids to go clean up. The two teams of the game glared at each other, especially the side that had lost. Altair smiled slightly, even at a young age assassin's were always taught to win. Because if you lost while on a mission; you died. The children walked right past him and his place where he sat on the wall except the one who knew would see him.

He wasn't disappointed when Giovanni stopped in front of him, "Hello Aalam," said the boy with a little bow of his head. "Do I get to see my _madre_ today?"

"I'm afraid not," Altair said looking into the boy's strange golden eyes, which were still gold and visible in the darkness of his second sight. The boy frowned and Altair allowed his regular vision to return.

"When?"

"When Ezio decides you can, an not before," Altair said sternly and Giovanni made a face. "Giovanni," he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, "Do you know who your father is?"

Giovanni clenched his eyes shut as if he was trying not to think about something and his lips moved silently. Pieces of Eden had strange effects on adults, he couldn't even begin to imagine what they did to children, especially if what he thought was true. "I'm not supposed to know," Giovanni finally said.

"But you do?" the boy nodded to his quarry. "What's his name?"

"Perotto," Giovanni was looking right at him, an unnatural stare for a child, more like something someone older would do. "But he's dead," he said and Altair was surprised the boy even knew what death meant, it was usually beyond the grasp of five year olds like him.

"Giovanni," they both looked away when the instructor came over to them looking stern, "I'm sorry if he's bothering you brother," he said apologetically.

"It is fine," Altair waved his concern away. "I was looking for him," he said to deflect any angry words the instructor might spit at the poor novice for disrupting a Master Assassin. "If you would," he added and motioned that they should leave. There was a few seconds of stillness before the man left, looking annoyed to have to listen to him.

"I won't get in trouble will I?" Giovanni asked him.

"Of course not," Altair said.

"Good, I do not like getting into trouble," the boy frowned in the childish way that only made it more endearing. Altair grinned slightly.

"Do you get into trouble a lot then?" Altair asked.

The boy was quiet for a moment before seeming to realize (how he did troubled Altair further) that silence was an admission of guilt. "Sometimes," he said, "The instructors don't like when I forget classes, or when I go to the library. They punish me."

"Forgetting classes isn't something you should do Giovanni," Altair said.

"But it is boring to have to be taught things I know," he said.

"You're a child, you shouldn't know many of the things your instructors can teach you."

He made an irritated face, "You sound like my teachers," he actually sounded bitter. Altair felt his brows go up, the key against his chest began to vibrate.

"Forgive me. I do believe you," Altair said, "You are a special case after all," he said pleasantly, the key stopped vibrating. "I have one more question for you Giovanni then you can go play with your friends," the boy nodded and Altair dug his hand into his clothes and produced the key. "Do you know what this is?" he held it out to him.

"It reminds me of the Apple _nonno_ let me play with," Giovanni said when his small fingers touched it. The key hummed slightly when they both touched it.

"He let you _play_ with it?" Altair asked as the groves on the key started to glow gently, barely noticeable.

Giovanni nodded, "I made an eagle," he said, "What is this?" he asked.

"It is called the Key," Altair said. "And your right, it is like your _nonno's_ Apple," the sharp whisper in Altair's head started up and he realized his heart was beating fast again. Like him, the Key was excited, it wanted to know as he wanted to know.

"It talks like the Apple does," Giovanni said.

"Yes, it does that sometimes. It isn't loud like the Apple is is it?"

"No," he shook his head. "But it sounds nicer," Altair had to agree. Apples were demanding Pieces, wanting everything, the Key was not, it by far the gentlest Piece Altair had ever seen; it was why he didn't have a problem keeping it on his body. "I like it," he decided after a few moments.

Altair chuckled, "As do I," and he took the Key back and slipped it back under his clothes. It chattered in its sweet, quiet voice to Altair in an excited whisper, which he ignored easily. "Go along now," he said nodding at the way out of the courtyard that the novices had taken.

"Okay. I like you Aalam, you aren't like the other sassins who don't like me cause of my _madre_," he grinned, he was starting to lose his baby teeth and was missing two.

"Children should never be judged by their parents," Altair said.

"Francesco says that too, that's why I like him too," and he waved before leaving.

—

"What can I do for you Master?" Francesco might have been a joker with his friends, but out of that circle he was serious and quiet, and more then ready to pick out his own faults.

"I simply had some questions novice," Altair said. It had been two days since the message had arrived and finally Francesco had returned from his mission to Milan.

"Of course," he nodded.

"If you would excuse us," he looked at the woman next to Francesco, she was short and slim and carried far to many extra pouches on her. He recognized her from a description Enu had given him; Tessa Varzi. "I wish to speak to Francesco in private."

"Of course," she said and gave the other novice a particular look Altair was all to familiar with before leaving the two men.

"What did you want to ask?" Francesco asked as he followed Altair back out of the hideout, where they wouldn't be overheard.

"Do you know Giovanni Borgia?" Altair asked and hopped up onto the fence where a few horses were let to graze on a giant bale of hay.

"Yes," he nodded following Altair's example.

"He's your old master's son isn't he."

"He is, I don't see where this is going," it was obvious he didn't like where it was going either.

"What did Calderon do to his son?" he asked.

"What makes you think he did anything?" now he was getting defensive, it was a touchy, sensitive subject, though he couldn't tell if it was for Calderon or for the boy.

"I received a message," Altair said, "It asked about Giovanni, if _It_ had fixed him," he stared at the novice.

"I don't know," he said flatly. "I wasn't privy to my master's thoughts when he decided to betray us," Francesco didn't believe the words he spoke for a moment and Altair knew it.

"No ideas?"

"No," he was getting angry at Altair's questions now, fidgeting on the fence, Altair could see his left hand twitching. It was a reaction that was a tell for most assassins, very hard to hide or get rid of because it was such a reactionary movement to kill something that was prying to deep into things they shouldn't know. Not even Altair could mask it, he was simply better at lying his way out of it.

"Then does the name Amore Lechezette mean anything to you?" Francesco shook his head, it wasn't a lie either, he didn't know anyone like that. Odd. "I read a report that says you met him," he said.

"If I did I didn't know his name."

"Then how about The Keeper?"

Francesco looked like he wanted to lie, but to much training stopped him, "Yes."

"Tell me where I can find him," he said.

"I couldn't if I wanted to," he said, "They don't stay in one place long. They don't like us, don't want us to bother them. _Il Mentore_ has sent people looking for them, we're the only ones that found them, but they'd be long gone by now." Altair didn't mention the they thing, he didn't know there was more than one, all he knew was Lechezette. "Why do you want to know?" he asked.

"Because, I want to meet him."

—

It pained Altair to have to ask Machiavelli for permission to do anything. He'd spoken to Ezio about his desire to look for Lechezette, he hadn't been able to give the go ahead for the mission though, not officially anyways. Ezio might control the majority of the Brotherhood and see that work against the Borgia was carried out, but for missions like this the ill named _il Mentore_ had to permit it.

"_Il Mentore_," Altair greeted him when he finally got a chance to see the man.

"Assassin," the man still didn't remember his name, "Remove your hood in my presence," he said and Altair did. Machiavelli's eyes narrowed, he might not remember Altair's name, but he recognized the man who had undermined his say on the Borgia prisoners. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"I wish to leave Rome for a time," he said.

"And do what?" of course Machiavelli was suspicious of him, Altair would have been.

"I'm going to look for Lechezette," he said.

"I don't see why since he and the rest of those traitors are dead," he said in a cold hiss.

"I appreciate not being lied to my face," Altair said back calmly. Machiavelli stiffened, "I've been going through some reports. You've been sending men out looking for him, apparently only Francesco Vecellio's team ever found them. I'd like a chance as well," he said.

"And what do you hope to gain from this?"

"A fractured Brotherhood is weak. We cannot allow those with our secrets to remain outside of our influence," he said. Those were rules he'd lived by when he'd been the Mentor, as they all had. Those that defected were silenced, those that sold them out were eliminated, and whoever decided it was wise to target the Brotherhood were destroyed without mercy.

The other man was silent for many minutes, thinking, and probably deciding if he disliked Altair enough to tell him no just out of spite. "Fine," he said at last, "But you can't take another with you. If you want to go, you'll go alone."

"As I prefer it," Altair said not even trying to hide his confidence. "Good day _il Mentore_," he said, Machiavelli nodded but otherwise chose to ignore him and he left.

—

Altair was surprised how quickly he found Lechezette and his men. Well really they were the ones that found him. Two days ride outside of Rome a group of six men came out from the dark Italian countryside and gathered around the fire Altair had made. They wore assassin's whites and several had weapon's drawn, others simply allowed the firelight to play off the hidden blades at their wrists.

A seventh man came from between two of them, "Brothers please, is that any way to treat a guest?" he asked them and weapons were tucked away though Altair was sure there was a bowman out just beyond the range of sight of the fire. When he checked in his second sight; he was right. "You're Aalam right?" the man in question asked. He had a full white beard, with a scar running through part of it. Despite his age though he carried himself proudly and his dark eyes were sharp and cunning.

"And I assume you're Lechezette, old Keeper of the Shroud," Altair said.

"I am," he nodded and Altair motioned for him and the rest to sit by the fire. The older man did which was a sign to the others he thought it was safe.

"You found me quickly," Altair said.

"We were waiting for you."

"I'll skip to the point, why did you want to see me?" Altair held up his transcribed message, folded but it was very obvious what it was.

"We're alike Aalam, I was hoping we could help each other."

Altair smirked, "You could not provide me with anything I wanted Lechezette. What do you want?" he asked.

"I'm sure you've heard we're traitors?" Altair nodded, "We are not. We simply helped a friend and brother to save the life of his son." So that was it. Altair knew Giovanni was touched by a Piece of Eden, just not _which_ one.

"And how did you do that? You mentioned a Piece of Eden; what is that?" best to play the ignorant route.

"It is power. The one that saved Perotto's son was called the Shroud," and Altair had to stop himself from cursing out loud. Altair knew of the Shroud, and he thought it was worse then Apples. An Apple was greedy, but the Shroud was hungry. When the Brotherhood had moved to Italy more than a hundred years ago Altair had been a part of the council that had influenced the choices of the Mentor. He'd told them to hide the Shroud, that it was to dangerous to use. So they had, right under Monterggioni where no one would stumble across it.

"How?" he kept his voice calm, but curious.

"The Shroud has the power to heal the wounded, cure the sick, and even bring someone back from the brink of death."

"It sounds powerful indeed then," Altair nodded, "I am guessing that Perotto's son was very sick as a child?"

"From the moment he was born," Lechezette said. "He came to me, seeking to heal his son, I let him. My actions and the actions of these men turned us into traitors in the eyes of some of our brothers. Especially those of the council."

"Let me guess; Machiavelli?"

"Yes."

"He is Mentor now-

"In name alone; we know. Not everyone turned against us, there are those who did not think it was right for the Brotherhood to mark us as traitors for helping a friend. They've told us."

"What else have they told you?"

"That he does not like you," Lechezette and Altair smirked, a few of the other assassins chuckled and he noticed that while they'd been talking a man had slipped in silently around the fire, the bowman he'd seen from a distance.

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," Altair said.

"So you'll help us?" Lechezette asked.

"You haven't asked for anything," he said simply.

"Machiavelli wants to keep the Shroud hidden, away from prying eyes and never to be used," said the old man. Well, at least Altair and Machiavelli agreed on one thing. "But it is a tool, a tool that can be used for the good of mankind, if used correctly."

"Pieces of Eden are not to be taken lightly Lechezette, if what you tell me is true this thing could be used as a weapon."

"Nothing of the sort. It is a device of healing. Imagine if our brothers, no matter how wounded, could be made whole again?"

"It is not for you to decide who lives and who dies in this world old man," Altair said, "It's the very reason we fight against the Templar."

"I am no Templar," he growled.

"I did not say you were," the other men seemed restless, they did not appreciate Altair's words and he wondered if he was good enough to take down seven assassins if they decided to attack him. He really hoped he didn't have to find out. "Tell me what you want from me quickly Lechezette so we will know if this is a waste of both our times or not," he added sharply.

The old man was quiet for a minute or so, "We are not traitors," he began, "we wish to return to the Brotherhood."

"You should tell Ezio this," Altair said.

"But like I said before, you and I are alike," and Altair's brows rose when the old man's eyes flashed gold. It was an old gold, like it hadn't been used in some time and only lasted a few seconds before it flickered away. "You need not be so suspicious of us brother," he added.

Altair just chuckled and shook his head, "So that's it," he muttered to himself.

"You have Ezio's ear, and from what we've heard have La Volpe's backing as well. If you can convince him to allow us back into the Brotherhood, we'd be most grateful."

"And what's in it for you?" he asked.

"For me? Probably nothing, I am an old man. But they," he motioned to the other seven men, "could be assists to the Brotherhood," seven white hoods turned to Altair, the fire cast them shadows, the top of their faces nothing but dark holes. "Seven Master Assassins branded as traitors, you don't think Ezio would be glad if they came back?" he asked.

Lazily Altair stretched his legs out in front of him, "You've given me much to think about brother," he said. "I'm sure you'll know if I decide to help you or not. At least this was not a waste of our time," he gave Lechezette a look.

"That is all then," and the old man stood, the others stood with him and moved back into the shadows beyond the light of the campfire.

"Oh, Lechezette," Altair called before the man left, he turned. "That was a very neat trick you did earlier. I don't know what it was, but you should know; this is just the color of my eyes," and he smirked when he saw the startled look on the man's face. "Goodnight brother," he added and the man left.


	8. A Convocation of Eagles

Someone mentioned I update this really fast.

Well... I do.

The reason for this is because I have a buffer from what I've written over on the kinkmeme. They are and always will be ahead of the updates here on . But I only have like one of two more chapters (I think, I dunno I've written a bunch since then...) to post before here is caught up with the kinkmeme. So, don't feel like you're missing out!

And now you get the chapter that is based on my least favorite mission in Legacy because... all I'm going to say is "neeeeeeh Tessa! :" If you get it; good, if you don't... go play Legacy! I swear that's the only reason I go on Facebook anymore is to see when new missions come out since I've beaten them all! *mild rage*

* * *

"How did your quest go brother?" Ezio asked Altair. Altair had been waiting for him where he sent messages off to those in the fields.

"Better than I expected," he said as Ezio sat and looked across the piles of normally disorganized contracts on the desk and safely out of the way of any pigeon droppings. Altair had been waiting for a while and to keep his mind occupied he'd sorted everything out. It had been a horribly boring task but it had been better than just sitting there waiting for him to show up.

"You returned quickly," Ezio noted lifting up a stack to look at it, Altair didn't even acknowledge the sorting or the look Ezio sent him when he found that indeed his chaos had been put into order.

"I found him quickly is all," Altair shrugged.

"Well, what did he want?"

Altair decided to ignore the question, "Where do you keep the Shroud?" he asked, Ezio frowned when he asked that.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you me-

"Where is the Piece of Eden known as the Shroud?" Altair pressed. "Lechezette said we had it."

"It is safe, that is all you need to know," obviously his tone was meant to reassure.

"I pray it is far from anyone's grasp brother, that one is dangerous."

"You speak as though you have knowledge of it."

"Mario mentioned it in passing. I am not so dumb that I couldn't piece together information he let slip."

Ezio made a face, "What did Lechezette want?" he asked again.

Altair gave a soft sigh, Ezio probably didn't hear it for the muffling of his mask, "He asked to come home. For him, and the others to be allowed to return."

"They are traitors I thought-

"We are hypocrites to allow Giovanni _Borgia_ into our Brotherhood and yet we deny men who used to fight along side us. It is ridiculous. We could use them Ezio, use their help and their experience."

"It is not my decision," Ezio said back harshly and Altair noticed they were both speaking in savage whispers.

"If you allow it Machiavelli will not oppose you. He _needs_ you to keep the Brotherhood together and he knows it-

"Flattery isn't becoming Aalam," Ezio said sternly.

"Damnit listen to me," Altair slammed his fist down on the table momentarily losing his temper to this ignorant novice. "You have seven Master Assassins and the Keeper of the Shroud roaming the country side of Italy," his voice was still low so others couldn't hear but several others were looking over when he slammed the table. "If you do not bring them back do you not think they will eventually find someway else to return to their families and lives?" he demanded. "They may fight against the Templars now, but it has been five years of them on the run from _us_. I'm sure our enemies are looking for them too; to recruit them. And I can't imagine the words they tell these men aren't reassuring and grand. If you don't want to potentially have seven of our most skilled brothers on the side of the Borgia use your head Ezio," his voice by then had regained it's calm composure.

Ezio was silent for several long moments and Altair knew he was thinking. Why did this boy have to be so damn difficult? He knew that if Ezio knew who he really was he'd follow instructions in a heart beat. But Altair wasn't ready for that, there was still to big a gap between what Ezio was and what he needed to be. If he knew who Altair was he'd use it as a crutch, he knew Ezio would too since men before him Altair had put in similar situations had done the same thing. This time and this state of the Brotherhood could not afford a crutch.

"Well what can I do? Machiavelli is _il Mentore_," Ezio hissed back.

"If you talk to him he will back down," Altair said quickly, "He listens to you because he knows _we_ listen to you. He can't afford to have the Brotherhood fall apart because of differences between you and himself. He'd smart enough to know that… or I hope he is," Altair ended with a bit of a question. He really hoped Machiavelli wasn't so head strong he would cause as schism in the Brotherhood. If he did there was no force on Earth that would keep Altair's blade from his throat.

"I am of the same rank as you-

"You are an _Auditore_," Altair stressed the word. "I know you are not one for politics brother bu-

The conversation was cut short when the door slammed open and an informant ran in, panting. Every assassin was instantly on edge as they held their knees doubled over till they finally found enough air to speak. "Borgia and French soldiers have set fire to an inn where twenty novices took shelter in," he gasped.

"We will continue this later," Ezio said to Altair who was already on his feet. "Where?" he demanded of the informant. He told them and told them approximate numbers for the forces they'd be going against.

In less than five minutes everyone on Tiber Island who was of the proper rank had been assembled and given orders to where they were to go. It took less time than that for the hideout to empty as a flock of white birds took flight from Tiber Island soaring across the rooftops of Rome. Or that was later how it would be described by the people who were in the right place to witness the spectacle.

They saw the smoke before they saw the inn and at the edge of the roofs between them and the inn was a line of gunmen and archers alike. They were shooting at something but from a distance it was hard to tell just what it was. At least if you were stupid you didn't know what it was since very obvious they were taking pot shots at the novices on the roof.

Altair had only ever seen the entire Brotherhood flung into an attack a few times in his life. Usually it only occurred during dire situations and it could be prevented. And apparently the novices who were being attacked made up half of the most senior novices, to lose them would be a critical hit to the Brotherhood. So it was no surprise the entire Brotherhood had been summoned to ensure not all of them were lost.

The first guard was ten feet away now from the most forward runners. Altair felt his blade slice through skin, muscle and bone as he snapped his arm forward through the neck of a rifleman shoving him off the roof of the building as other assassins and novices swarmed around them both on the roofs and below in the streets. All the while the inn continued to burn.

Dispatching five guards in cool, swift motions Altair contemplated the roof of the inn. Only the bottom floors were burning and he could make out about fifteen bodies, all of them in some sort of prone, lateral, position. That wasn't good. Glancing around he saw that most everyone else was busy killing the French and Borgia soldiers, and they were busy dropping like flies. They obviously hadn't been expecting reinforcements, let alone one of this size and skill.

Taking a running jump that made the Key hum Altair took the landing in a roll and surveyed the nearest bodies. Two of them were dead, but one was still alive, but bleeding from the side. "Heal him," Altair said softly touching the wound. The Key, very excited about finally given something to do, practically sang through his mind and he felt it grow warm, not enough to hurt, but to be uncomfortable.

The wound began to close and Altair pulled his hand away. The Key was an amazing Piece of Eden in that it had no power of its own other to unlock the power within other Pieces or humans to bring out their full potential. It, along with his long age, was the reason Altair could perform nearly impossible feats of acrobatics and combat. The wound on the novice would close on its own now thanks to the Key's prompting for the natural capacity for the cells in the body to heal and replenish themselves.

The next group only held three dead bodies; nothing he could do. Then he came upon a piece of cover on the roof, at least from one side. Huddled in it's shadow were five novices, and two of their dead friends. All of them were wounded but most looked like they would live with some bandages till he came upon two who he at first thought were dead till he saw the shallow rise and fall of their bodies where they huddled together.

He pulled back the hood of one; Francesco, he was white and his lips were blue but his eyes were alert. "A-Aalam?" he asked very clearly out of it as they heard a myriad of gunshots go off all around them.

"Where are you hurt?" he demanded sharply.

"Help Enu," he said instead and Altair's eyes went to the other novice, who was leaning against Francesco who's mask was the color of his blood. He ripped it away and Cipriano's dark eyes flashed blankly at him.

"You will both be fine," Altair told them reaching out to where he could see the wound on Cipriano neck and once again asked the Key to help the poor novice. He passed out before Altair pulled away and turned to Francesco who had taken a gunshot to the chest. The lead of the bullet would kill the novice even if he recovered so despite the novice's protests he dug his fingers into the boy's chest till they found the bullet and pulled it out. By then the novice had fainted and Altair set the Key to work once more. By the time that was done the heat given off by the artifact was almost to much to bear so he pulled it out to hang outside of his robes.

When Altair looked up from the two he saw that there were no more enemies on the rooftops, merely dead bodies, and below he couldn't hear anything but the sound of flames and yelling for people to quickly bring water. If any French of Borgia soldiers hadn't been killed in the attack they'd fled, since it was very obvious that to not do so would lead to a quick death.

Altair moved away from the novices behind cover and saw to anyone else who benefitted from use of the Key. Most of them though had merely taken shots to the extremities, their plate armor protecting them from the worst of the shots to their chests but a few needed serious help; and for others there was no helping.

He hadn't noticed when the smoke had stopped, but he did notice that the roof was suddenly crawling with brothers and sisters. And of course in the middle of the chaos was Ezio, barking orders to get everyone off the roof quickly with _all_ of the novices before the building collapsed. Altair just watched him from the low wall on the roof. He'd done his part and he was old enough to leave heavy lifting to younger people.

He laughed dryly to himself, he sounded like an old man.

—

Over the next day the count came back on how many novices had been killed during the attack on the inn. Nine, while eleven still were allowed to breath. It was a sharp blow to the face for the Brotherhood but Altair mused that there had been worse; far worse. He didn't see Ezio for the next two days as the coordinators of the Brotherhood tried to get everything and one back to normal as possible.

Among the chaos Altair could hear the grumbling from the assassins of revenge against both the French and the Borgia who had done this. Losing a novice now and then was an accepted loss in their line of work, even the loss of fully trained assassins. But there hadn't been so many lost at once in a long time, even by Altair's memory. It was understandable they were upset and Altair wondered how long Ezio would be able to keep everyone in check.

—

"You look tired Ezio," Altair told the older looking man when he found him on a rooftop of the hideout looking very much like he was hiding from everything he had to deal with on the ground.

"This I will not deny," Ezio sighed and sagged a bit where he sat and Altair sat next to him. "Much has changed," he looked out across Rome.

"I do not to mean to add to your burdens, but-

"More bad news?"

"Preventable news," Altair said. Ezio didn't speak, indicating for Altair to go on. "I do not know if you've been listening to what our brothers and sisters have been saying, but they are very angry. I've heard more then one group speaking of attacking the French encampment or the Castello themselves."

"Fools," Ezio muttered.

"I couldn't agree more!" he said with more enthusiasm then Ezio was used to because he stared at Altair. "You need to bring order back quickly," he continued.

"I am doing my best. But as you've said; they are angry, they don't like listening to reason."

"You need allies."

"They seem to be in short supply," Ezio sighed.

"I know where you could get some," Altair supplied causing him to get another look, this one hopeful this time. "You know as well as I that if enough power backs a certain movement the rest will follow it," he said half a question, Ezio nodded. "So to stop everyone from committing, basically, mass suicide because they refuse to use their heads, we'll just have to remind them where the power lies and who is in charge."

"Which isn't them," Ezio mumbled.

"Which some have seemed to have forgotten," Altair nodded. "Do you remember what we talked about the other day?"

"Uh," Ezio obviously had a lot on his mind, but Altair wasn't just going to give him the answer. "Your meeting with Lechezette and his band of traitors," he finally found his answer.

"They still want to come home Ezio," he said slowly. "Seven Master Assassins who would be all to willing to push their weight around in your benefit," he watched the clarity dawn on Ezio's face before he started to laugh.

"Aalam, you are a sly man," he slapped Aalam on the back. "It seems you get your original desire and I get a bunch of idiots off my back; a fine, fine deal," he seemed pleased by these new turn of events, only an idiot wouldn't be.

"I'm glad you approve," Altair said humbly. "Don't tell Machiavelli I told you to do this; he hates me enough as it is," he sighed.

"That he does my friend," Ezio chuckled. "I won't tell him you're being your normal bad influence on my person," and now it was Altair's turn to chuckle.

—

By the end of the week any talk by anyone about taking revenge had all but vanished. And with it came seven new additions to the Brotherhood who were more then willing to remind everyone exactly what their standing in the Brotherhood was and why going against Ezio's will would be a _very_ bad idea.

Altair found it all very amusing. Even more when the men who not a week earlier had been branded as "traitors" and were some of the Brotherhood's most wanted men were now more or less considered by the majority to be Ezio's personal enforcement squad. It helped as well that most of the novices who'd been caught in the fire were well on their way to recovering, the ones Altair had helped along with the Key were recovering at a speed that was actually bewildering the doctors who tended them. At least the eleven were alive though, which was really what everyone was thankful for.


	9. The List of Nine

"Where is he then?" Lucrezia was, as always, harsh and unyielding, and didn't like to wait for anything.

"He isn't here," Altair said.

"What!" she glared at him to the point Altair was sure he'd burst into flames if Lucrezia had the ability. "What did you call me out here assassin if I do not get to see my son?" she got right in his face, glaring, eyes hot and furious.

Altair felt his lips quirk under his mask, shame she was such a malicious bitch or she would have been beautiful. And Altair was a sucker for beautiful things and people. "It's time you earned the right to see him Lucrezia," he said pleasantly and stepped away from her and clasped his hands behind his back calmly.

"He is my son," she hissed, "A Borgia."

"He is one of ours," Altair said slowly, "And if you want to see him you'll have to start convincing us it's a good idea to let you two stay together; heaven forbid you start being a bad influence on one of our novices," he leaned back on his heels when she looked about to punch him in the mouth.

"I helped you already," she growled.

"That was several months ago, and we did not ask for your help," he said softly.

"You should be grateful for anything I-

"No Lucrezia," Altair interrupted her, "_You_ should be grateful for anything _we_ give to _you_. _Il Mentore_ still tries to insist I kill you instead of continue letting you see your son… it would not be difficult after all," he was pleased when she paled. "But I'm not here for that," he rocked back and forth on his feet, "Once again I play messenger," he held out a note. "Do as it says; and yes, we'll let you see Giovanni said. If you don't, consider our relationship terminated," she'd already snatched the note but was even paler when he gave the ultimatum.

She opened the note and read, swallowing as she did, "Very well," she said at last.

"Good," he said and they both could hear his smile, "We'll be in touch," and without a backwards glance proceeded to climb up the side of the building and out of sight.

—

Altair was more then a little surprised to find someone in his room when he came back from dealing with Lucrezia. He didn't like dealing with her; but he'd rather face her than handle Machiavelli any day, so he considered it a suitable trade.

"The doctor's better have said you could leave your bed or I'm dragging you back," Altair told Cipriano sternly pulling away at his mask.

The dark novice just grinned at him, showing off his bright white smile and dark red mouth Altair had grown so fond of. "They did, I promise," he said, "Though they didn't know how I could be up and walking after a shot to the neck like that. I think some of them think I'm possessed," he laughed.

"I've been accused of worse," Altair shrugged and made his way closer to the young man.

"Not that is matters what some doctors think," Cipriano said stumbling a little over his words when Altair stood over him by the desk. The poor kid had developed the nervous habit of being unable to talk when he was to close to Altair.

"I will still be sure to thank them for your renewed health," Altair said leaning down and saw the dark novice swallow before Altair let his lips slide against his. One hand went out slipping under the novice's hood to cup the back of his neck, the other grasped the back of the chair he sat in. Cipriano's lips were not soft, despite how they looked, as the novice enjoyed destroying them by biting on them and ripping off the thin skin there to the point of physical pain. He did the same thing to his nails which were bitterly short as well as terribly mangled by the man's bright teeth. It was something easy for Altair to overlook though since damnit did the kid know how to use that fucking mouth of his. He had an oral fixation after all and enjoyed using that mouth, very much.

A long fingered hand came up and grabbed the front of Altair's robes, creating a fist in the loose fabric and pulled him closer as the novice ran his tongue along the top and sides of the inside of Altair's mouth, twisting it around Altair's as well. Damnit this kid knew how to do some dirty things with his mouth.

Not that he was complaining _in the slightest_.

Altair pulled away and though he couldn't see it he could feel the heat wafting off Cipriano's skin like it was on fire and he smirked. The novice just burned hotter and in a single movement Altair had yanked him out of the desk chair and up against him.

Before anything else could happen though someone knocked on the door. A quiet knock, sounding tired and wary. Irritation flashed across Altair's face and he untangled his arms from the novice and went to the door.

"What are you doing here?" Altair stared at Francesco, he had hollow, black eyes that appeared to look right through him.

"Is Enu here?" he asked, sounding more tired then Altair had ever heard, and his tone sent a shiver down Altair's spine, something was not right with the poor kid.

"Francesco?" Enu suddenly pushed Altair out of the way, the assassin let him, "What are you doing out of bed?" he demanded, "You know you're supposed to be sleeping," he scolded the shorter novice who under the dark man's harshness looked about to fall to pieces there on the spot.

"Peace brother, no need to be so harsh," Altair touched Cipriano's arm.

"I can't find Tessa Enu, have you seen her?" he asked. Altair frowned, the poor kid sounded broken.

Pain shot across Cipriano's face, then he looked guiltily at Altair, "I'm sorry. I… I need to deal with this_,_" he looked back at his friend who was just staring at the two, his eyes far away, pained.

"Apologize for nothing. I understand_,_" Altair nodded, still frowning.

"Ezio said once all of us were better the eleven of us would be graduating," Cipriano told Altair, he just nodded once, "I hope all of us get to go," he looked sadly at Francesco who still looked like he was barely keeping it together.

"Take care of your friend," Altair patted Cipriano on the shoulder, "I'll always be here," he saw the tips of the novice's ears flush pink.

"C'mon Francesco," Cipriano took his friend by the elbow. "We'll go look for Tessa," he said gently and led him away. Altair sighed watching them go and leaned against the door frame still frowning. He had to agree with the dark novice. Ezio may have slated all eleven surviving novices to become full assassins of the Brotherhood; but that didn't mean they'd all be up for it.

Altair felt bad for Francesco. He knew what it was like to lose something important to him. To fail so miserably that nothing he ever did or said would _ever_ make up for what he'd done.

'_Self pity is only for novices and the weak. Stop it._'

Altair shook his head slightly, trying not to let his lips twitch. Even after all this time that man still knew when he was being an idiot; and he'd been dead for hundreds of years.

—

Altair always thought birds were incredibly calming creatures, probably because he related to them so much. They were free spirits and on a moment's notice they could be on the wing and away from all the worries that seemed to constantly plague everyone on the ground. That's how Altair always felt as he climbed to the top of impossible places and looked down at everyone and thing and even his own problems seemed so far away. He even liked pigeons, besides the fact that they were practically members of the Brotherhood themselves, he'd found they were very smart birds and unlike his human companions they weren't bothered with the comings and goings of politics. They were simple and easy to understand and seemed to like him a great deal. Though of course not everyone liked pigeons. They were called rats with wings, vermin and in some extreme cases Altair had heard them called death messengers who carried the souls of the dead who could not pass on on their wings. That could have been why Altair liked them as well. Since they were both omens of death. It didn't really matter _why_ Altair liked pigeons so much beyond the fact that he just enjoyed the company of birds.

So when Lucrezia came upon him waiting for her in one of the lesser used squares of Rome, surrounded by the feathered creatures; she was more than a little surprised. She gave a little shriek startling the flock that had gathered around Altair suddenly took wing in a deafening sound of battering wings and feathers on air, taking to the roofs and the garden boxes on the wall, looking down at the two, leaving Altair alone on the paving stones of the square.

"Hello to you too Lucrezia," Altair said as he calmly brushed a few stray feathers off his shoulders as a smattering of them drifted down from the sky. Overhead the pigeons cooed anxiously.

The daughter of the Pope just looked mildly revolted, like she'd found a disgusting insect hiding in her makeup. "I have the information you wanted," she snapped out producing a sealed envelope that bore the thick Papal seal on the back.

"Always business isn't it," he sighed and moved over to her taking the envelope.

"I want to deal with you people as little as possible," she glared at him.

Altair chuckled mirthlessly, "I bet Perotto would turn in his grave if he-

The square was silent except for the loud sound of skin striking skin as the flat of Lucrezia's hand struck across Altair's cheek. "Don't you _dare_ speak his name in my presence," she snarled, and her eyes were bright with an emotion that wasn't anger.

"Well that hurt," he said more to himself and gently rubbed the side of his face where he could feel a red mark forming.

"When do I get to see Giovanni?" she demanded.

"In due time Lady Borgia," he said lowering his hand, "And next time, please don't strike me when I wish to talk of one of my brothers," he gave her a look, raising his brows under the cover of his hood. "Even if it is a… _sensitive_ topic," she just fumed at him, but it didn't reach her eyes, she almost looked lost, or desperate maybe. She didn't reply to him.

"Also; don't frighten my birds, they're harmless," she just gave a choked laugh as though she didn't believe a word he said and he left her in the square. As he did he heard the pigeons on the walls and roofs take flight and spiral away into the sky, as carefree as one could be.

—

Altair groaned when he sat opposite Ezio and saw that _once again_ the man's contracts were all disorganized. Why did this kid seem so against making his life easier?

"You sound like something ails you my friend," Ezio chuckled.

"Just your lack of organization Ezio, just that," he sent Ezio a look of utter disbelief and Ezio laughed again. "You'd think the man the Borgia fear so much would have a better sense of organization," he sighed.

"If it is organization you want then Claudia is the one you want to speak with," Ezio said reading over a dispatch.

"Perhaps I should ask her to come whip you into shape. I'm sure she'd be _delighted,_" he smirked.

"If you value your rank you'll rethink that thought," Ezio sent him a look, Altair just smirked under his mask.

"You are not _Il Mentore_ yet Auditore."

"Like I need to give Machiavelli a real reason to demote you," they stared at each other intensely for a few moments before Altair saw Ezio's lips contort and he laughed. Altair followed a moment later, though not nearly as loudly as Ezio.

"I would appreciate you not giving Machiavelli the idea that he could demote me."

"I'm sure he dreams of it," Ezio snickered and tried to look busy when a pair of assassins walked past talking. "He keeps telling me you are a terribly influence on me."

"He is just a jealous old man, nothing more," Altair said and Ezio raised a brow at him, "Younger people are supposed to look up to their elders, not the other way around," he added before Ezio could get all uppity about someone calling him old. Altair tried not to think of how many centuries he had on the kid and failed miserably.

Ezio snorted, "It is not my fault I am willing to take sound advice where I can get it," he gave Altair another look.

"Don't look at me," Altair told him sternly. Ezio just smirked and went back to his work for a few moments before Altair spoke again, "Oh yes, I got that list from Lucrezia," he said.

"The remaining names?" Ezio immediately looked up, very interested, his previous work totally forgotten.

"I wouldn't know, I didn't open it; yet," he produced the letter Lucrezia had given him and handed it to Ezio.

"Why not?" he asked examining it, "Thought she would poison it?"

"Oh, I know she wouldn't. She wants to see her son to much to jeopardize her meetings with him. I just figured I'd let you do it, Fiora's contact wasn't my business."

"Nor was it mine," Ezio grumbled and took one of his throwing knives and snapped the seal opening it. "But-" he said as Altair tried to make a hasty retreat before Ezio could pin these names on his blade. To late. "Now it is yours," he gave Altair a cunning smirk.

"You're going to wake up with a knife in your chest one of these days my friend," Altair snatched the letter from Ezio who didn't seem at all disheartened by the threat.

"And if I was dead no one would protect you from Machiavelli," Ezio teased.

"Please, I fear that man about as much as I fear a fish," Altair rolled his eyes making Ezio laugh again. "I'll take care of this list," he looked down at it and already knew he'd be transcribing it into a language that wasn't a bother to read.

"On your own time, they do not appear to be as big of a threat as the names Fiora gave us," Ezio raised a placating hand.

Altair sighed, now fulling standing, "Very well."

* * *

Ho dang, look at that. Altair once again has a kill list.

This chapter basically starts the second arc of the story, the arc where Altair gets to go around killing the rest of the Multiplayer characters that don't die in Legacy or are actually major memories Ezio has. I know you get to kill the rest in AC:B with Ezio. But I always figured Ezio had way better things to do then go kill C-D list bad guys. So; he's sending his assassins out to do it, namely Altair. I think Ezio purposefully likes to make poor Altair suffer XD

And stop asking for Altair/Ezio. It isn't ganna happen!


	10. Marked in Red

It felt strange to be in clothes other than assassin's whites as Altair walked down the street. Assassins practically lived in their whites (or grays for novices) and it was rare they ever wore anything else. But Altair figured that for what he was going to do it would probably be best not to draw unwanted attention given to his white clothes. Which was why he'd traded his hood for a hat, had lost the mask and went down the lane in grays and greens looking more like some messenger with his side bag then an assassin. No one gave him a second look as he passed them, nor did they notice that after a slight bump from the bag carrying man that their purses were somewhat lighter then they had been.

Finally Altair reached the place of his interests. The building was marked in Italian as well as a sign that bore an anvil on it so even if you couldn't read (which was most people) you could still understand what went on behind the doors. Pushing open the door Altair was buffered by the thick heat that came from the back room and the sound of hammers on steel greeted his ears making them ring.

The front room was set up with racks and shelves filled with fine weapons and for a moment Altair forgot his purpose for being here and instead went over to where there were a set of swords on display. He picked one up and held it in his hand before grimacing. It felt awkward and clumsy in his grip and he chided himself. Of course it felt awkward. He was so used to his two swords being molded to his grip that anything else felt like a mockery of swords making. He put the sword back sheepishly and approached the main counter where a young man in a leather apron and rolled up sleeves showed off his thick arms stood, looking bored, though watched him as he moved towards him.

"Can I help you?" he asked perking up a bit when Altair stood in front of him.

"I wish to speak with your master; Augustine Oberlin," Altair said.

"Sorry, the master is busy right now," said the youth smirking like he loved nothing more than to tell people to go away.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't make my life difficult boy," he narrowed his eyes at the youth.

"The master sa-

"I bet the guards would be interested in knowing that you're selling smoke bombs here," Altair cut him off. "Aren't those the weapons of the assassins?" he asked and the youth stiffened before turning red. "Now then, I would like to see your master," he said again and the young man fled into the back leaving Altair in the front to listen to the sound of hammers.

A few moments later Altair got to watch a mountain of a man squeeze his way through the doorway. He was tall and wide and his shoulders were probably the biggest Altair had ever seen and they were connected to arms like tree trunks. Oberlin eyed him with a bit of suspicion, his brows, long beard, and hair all the color of fire which just seemed to make him even larger then life. He refrained from swallowing. How the hell was he nervous? "Greetings good sir," Altair had pictured the voice to go with the man, it was deep and resonating, but not the tone, which belayed intellect far greater then his occupation entailed.

"Hello Master Oberlin," he dipped his head, "My name Gustavo Perrichi," never was he more grateful for his lack of an accent then now.

"What can I do for you Perrichi?" he asked easing out from around the counter to stand before Altair who had to look up at him, which was something since Altair wasn't exactly a short man. He felt his heart stammer and he was _sure _he was nervous even though the mere idea was totally fucking ridiculous.

"I was wondering if I could commission some work," he made his mouth speak, it recited what he'd wanted to say without his conscience thought. Which was for the best since he was nearly speechless by the size of this man at the moment. "I have heard from an associate that you are one of the best smiths in the city."

Oberlin laughed, it sounded like a rock slide, "I would like to think they are greatly exaggerating," so he was a giant, and humble about it.

"Regardless," Altair said.

"I would be happy to assist you if I am able," said the smith.

"I was wondering what you thought of this," Altair reached into his bag, fumbling around for a moment while he wondered why his fingers were trembling, before pulling out a vambrace. Wordlessly he handed it to Oberlin who took it in his massive hands which dwarfed Altair's and examined it with his sharp, dark eyes.

"I have never seem workmanship like this before," he shot a look at Altair. It was a piece of his personal equipment, similar to the armor he'd forged while he'd been the Mentor at Masyaf. Only this armor was different, it was meant to be worn under the heavy white assassin linens, not over it. It was why Altair never appeared to wear armor aside the pauldron on his left shoulder to help secure the standard Assassin cape. It was something that more than one person had asked about but Altair never gave them reason for his seeming lack of armor other then it was by personal choice. "Where did you get it?" he asked.

"From a trip I took to the Holy Land," Altair said.

"Fascinating," Oberlin turned the vambrace over in his large hand noting the intricate designs on it, none of them related to the Brotherhood. "I don't understand where I come in though."

"I was wondering if you could make me pieces of armor, similar to that one," Altair said.

"I doubt I could. I can already tell this is unlike any steel I have ever worked with. I could make you the pieces easily enough; but like this," he frowned and shook his head.

"If I were to give you the formula on how to create this steel could you?" Altair asked.

"If you did I would gladly trade it for whatever you wanted," Oberlin gave him a giant, eager grin. It was a shame this man was on Altair's List, he seemed to mean well enough and enjoyed his work, but he was working for the wrong side. Altair bet that whatever he'd been working on in the back was for Ceasare, he couldn't let that go on.

"If you will forge me the requested items I will give it to you," Altair said, "But," he added as the smith looked increasingly excited. "I will only give it to you once they're done," Oberlin frowned, "I will send you the smelted metals you require, once you've finished you'll get the formula," he said glad that the smith on Tiber Island had already agreed to let Altair use his forge after he'd proved to be competent enough.

Oberlin's frown deepened. He looked down at the vambrace, back at Altair then back down at the vambrace before he sighed. "I suppose that is a fair trade," he said. "What will I be forging?"

"A chest plate, a right handed vambrace, greaves, and a pauldron," he said simply.

"For one person? For you?"

Altair thought about that a second, he and Ezio were roughly the same dimensions, "Yes," he said.

"I feel as though I'm getting the better end of this deal Perrichi," Oberlin grinned at him, "May I keep this to study it?" he asked.

"Certainly, also, this particular vambrace goes under the clothes-

"Ah, that is why it is smaller then I expected," he nodded quickly, fingers still tracing the intricacies of the metal.

"I want you to forge the new ones to be over the clothes," Altair finished.

"Whatever you want Perrichi my friend," said Oberlin still looking very excited about this latest bit of work.

"How long do you think it will take?" Altair asked.

"Once I have the metal, a few weeks, two perhaps," he said thoughtfully. It was obvious he wanted the formula, otherwise such a request made to such a skilled smith could take more than a month.

"Then I'll have one of my boys bring you the first ingots tomorrow," Altair said.

"Thank you," Oberlin actually bowed his head at Altair.

"Till I see you again then Master Oberlin," Altair tipped his hat at the red haired giant and left the shop breathing out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Only when he was walking down the street did he realize why his heart hadn't been able to calm down, and it had everything to do with the fact that his left hand wouldn't remain still. He'd been nervous perhaps, but more then that the thrill of knowing that he'd have to fight _that_ made his blood pound in his veins and excite his nerves.

—

The next few days saw Altair back at the Sleeping Fox Inn, home of the thieves guild, once more in his assassin's whites, and with both his vambraces, since he'd asked for the right handed one back from Oberlin. The thieves were more then happy to welcome one of the Brotherhood into their inn, especially one who enjoyed playing dice like Altair did. Or at least they did until they realized the assassin was far to good at the game for his own good and often walked away with more florins then he'd started with.

Altair sat next to La Volpe at the bar, he was staring into an empty tankard, not that there had been anything in it to begin with. "You know I just wish to help you with your search Aalam," La Volpe said sounding a little annoyed with the man. They'd been having a running argument over Altair telling him the name of the person he was supposed to find.

"If you start asking around, so will the others and then they will be gone," Altair sighed and rolled his eyes, it just made the violet eyed man groan in annoyance. "They're a thief La Volpe, they aren't stupid. They know once their guild master starts asking about one of them it means two things, they have done good, or they have done bad. And since they know of the guild's relationship with the Brotherhood," he cast his eyes around the inn quickly from under his hood as he spoke, "they will only think it is something bad."

La Volpe sighed, "Why must you be such a rational young man Aalam?" he asked irritably.

Altair laughed lowly, "Someone must be the rational one when dealing with Ezio and Machiavelli," he explained helplessly. La Volpe snorted at the mention of Machiavelli's name. "Wouldn't you agree?" he continued carefully.

"It is only because of Ezio I aligned the guild with the Order," he practically muttered, hunching over in his stool, somehow a knife appearing in his hand which he toyed across the wooden bar-top. Altair watched him out of one eye but the sienna dressed man didn't speak again. So there was more then _a little _bad blood between him and Machiavelli. He thought it best not to ask. "If you won't ask me where to find… whoever it is you're looking for, how do you even know who you are looking for?" La Volpe finally asked and spun the knife on the bar-top.

"Just because I haven't asked you doesn't mean I haven't asked," Altair said and La Volpe shot him a look from under his hood. "No one wants to hear the boss is looking for them," he said slyly.

La Volpe stared at him for a moment, "I think your talents are wasted as an assassin Aalam," he finally said making Altair chuckle.

"Think I'd make a better thief?" he asked.

"Probably. You think more like us then an assassin-

"Then you clearly have not been around enough assassins La Volpe," Altair said. "For I know few more cunning then-" he broke off when someone entered the inn and his eyes zeroed in on them. He smiled slightly under his mask.

Faustina Collarl.

Just who he was looking for.


	11. Two Birds and a Stone

Holy fuck you guys you are _seriously_ freaking me out with your crazy psychic powers. Stop reading my mind before I get to that part of the story damnit! XP

For people who want Altair interacting with Desmond... I've already written that. Go read my Flocking Movement story (if you haven't already), cause immortal Altair AND Ezio show up in that one. It **isn't in any way** related to this story though.

* * *

After the fifth throwing knife hurled at him Altair was starting to seriously get annoyed. This was proving to be way more trouble then it was worth and this girl just _wouldn't_ stop running. Altair had the wind to keep up with her, and the skill to match her daredevil stunts as Faustina raced across the Roman rooftops, but that didn't mean this wasn't what he was expecting when the thief had walked into the Sleeping Fox.

It was like she'd been psychic and as soon as she'd spotted the assassin at the bar sitting next to La Volpe she'd bolted, her blue hat flying off her blonde hair in her haste. Altair had upturned his stool as he ran after her, throwing open the inn's door and saw her racing across the open ground between the Sleeping Fox and the Centro district beyond the river Tiber. She led him on a goose chase across the mostly open ground, using old columns and old dilapidated buildings to try and shake Altair off her trail. Unfortunately for her Altair wasn't one to shake a trail. One reason was because he was stubborn and determined to never let someone get away from him. To many bad things happened when he let his hits get away. The other reason was because her path shown bright red in his vision and he couldn't have lost her if he wanted as he followed her.

When they came to the river Tiber Faustina had simply jumped across some pillars and a boat and reached the other side. For no other reason then that he was going to kill her. Altair could swim, he just couldn't do it very well, it didn't help that he was strapped down with armor and heavy weapons that further hindered his total lack of any sort of natural buoyancy. Meaning that he sunk like a fucking stone. So he hesitated on the edge of the Tiber and watched her red form try and slip away before cursing himself, and her, and Ezio especially he jumped across the Tiber using the pillars and boat before scrambling up the nearest building and spotting her brazen red form darting across the rooftops.

Now he was busy dodging her damn throwing knives. It helped that she was a terrible shot, but he couldn't wait to kill her. She was just making this so difficult. He didn't expect his hunts to be easy. But most of the time they didn't involve chasing someone across tiled rooftops in the middle of the day. He hoped that there was a special place in hell for whoever invented this sort of ceramic shingles because damnit if they weren't just all to ready to help you slip and trip.

Suddenly Faustina dropped off the side of a building and Altair slowed as he reached the edge and saw he run down an alley. Something told him not to follow her on the ground but stick to the roofs. So he followed her from above keeping just out of eyesight when she glanced behind her and up to the roofs as if expecting him to some soaring down at any second like some sort of reaper. He actually liked that image quite a bit actually. After several minutes of the thief winding through the back alleys of Rome and had not seen Altair during that time she seemed to convince herself that she'd indeed lost the assassin.

Altair rolled his eyes when she spoke to herself, mocking him and saying that an assassin could never catch a clever thief like her. He tuned out when she started to ramble to herself and he rose his brows in interest when she stopped at a door and knocked on it loudly. "Lanz, Lanz!" she called banging on the door, "Open up!"

The door opened a sliver and Altair saw the flash of sun baked Italian skin. But he wasn't very interested in that. He was more interested in who Faustina was calling on. Lanz.

If he remembered correctly that name was on his List as well.

The, so far, terrible hunt suddenly seemed to get much better. Two birds with one stone.

"Stop yelling Faustina," said a cold voice from the door, "The entire street can hear you."

"There isn't anyone here but us _voi idotia_," Altair could just imagine the taller woman rolling her eyes.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"I need a place to stay," she said speaking rapidly and using her hands to make a few wild gestures, "There was an _assassin_ at the guild-"

Lanz cursed, "You idiot, he could be here now!" the footpad looked around wildly but of course couldn't find Altair who was crouching just out of sight over Lanz's door.

"Please Lanz, I'm not that dumb-

"Could've fooled me," he muttered.

"I lost him ten minutes ago," she carried on as if he hadn't spoken, or maybe she didn't hear; it seemed very possible. "I think I hit him with a throwing knife and he couldn't keep up." Altair refraining from snorting, since it would give him away. "So can I stay here for a little while?" she asked hopefully.

Lanz seemed to loath to do anything for the female thief and told her as much, but he grudgingly allowed it. That was Altair's cue and as Faustina was making to enter the place Altair clenched his left hand, the hidden blade shot out and rested against the stump of his ring finger and without ceremony or warning dropped down from the roof and landed on Faustina. His aim was a bit off and she screamed as his blade sunk into her abdomen.

Lanz yelled a curse and pulled out his two shivs looking at Altair with wide eyes as he stood up from Faustina. She wasn't dead yet, but he was sure he'd at least fractured her legs from jumping on her, and from the depth of her wound she'd bleed out soon anyway. She was as good as dead. Which was just as well because Lanz lunged at him both shivs swinging and Altair was forced to jump back to avoid being hit.

The short footpad was fast and agile and barely gave Altair time to block, let alone attack. Somehow though he managed to do it one handed with his hidden blade before he managed to get his hand around the hilt of his short sword. In a fluid motion he ripped it from its scabbard and deflected a shiv, sending it spiraling out of Lanz's hand and down the alley. Lanz just growled and swung with greater fury at Altair who sidestepped away. After a few useless attempts to land a hit on the assassin he backpedaled and put his fingers into his mouth and gave a shrill, sharp whistle.

That couldn't be good.

Not waiting to see what would happen Altair threw himself at Lanz, hidden blade extended, only to be tackled from the right side and thrown to the ground. He'd been to slow to react to the red flash in his periphery and paid the price for it as he landed heavily on the ground and rolled backwards just as something something heavy and sword-like came towards his head. He rolled into a crouch and narrowed his eyes as he eyed this new predicament. Six, no, eight, Cento Occhi thieves stood around Lanz, all wielding a weapon; throwing knives, short swords, daggers, another with shivs, one with a kukri and fuck was that a bastard sword?

This was not going to end well.

—

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going to happen. Not when one of the Cento Occhi thieves suddenly collapsed, a throwing knife sticking out of their eye. He'd hit the one holding the throwing knives too. No need to let them get a shot at him from afar. That seemed to be the cue because then Altair was swarmed. It was unfair really and Altair cursed the fact that he hadn't just killed Lanz quicker because he already knew this was going to be a giant hassle.

The two wielding short swords decided Altair didn't look so tough with his own curved short sword and something that probably looked like a toothpick that shot off from the end of his wrist. Sadly they were fighting an assassin, an assassin who'd been alive since the thirteenth century; he could kill them with both hands tied behind his back if he wanted to. So Altair actually scoffed at the look of surprise on one of the thieves faces when they suddenly got to get up close and personal with Altair's short sword as he stepped up into the man's range then even closer using his hidden to bat away the man's sword and rammed his own deep into his gut. Pulling up and out he shoved the man back as another lunged at him. He side stepped and they fell forward. He helped them by kicking them in the side, the iron toe of his boot finding the soft spot of the thief's gut and sent him into the wall of the small plaza. The thief cried out and curled around his stomach, shivs scattering to the ground in front of him.

"You guys are going to make this difficult for me aren't you?" he asked them as they surrounded him and he spun his short sword lazily. "Really you could all just leave and I'd let you live; all I want is him," he pointed his sword at Lanz who was outside the circle, looking in, he'd found another shiv and was gripping them so hard his knuckles were white.

"Like any words spoken by an assassin are true," Lanz spat and his hair fell over his face, he flipped it away with a flick of his wrist, "Kill him."

"Of course," Altair muttered to himself as the thieves pounced on him. Red sparked at his periphery and without thinking he pushed his sword back behind him, under his left armpit and the tip found flesh. The man with a pair of daggers stared at the new wound in his chest and with a whirl Altair had pulled the blade from his gut and slashed it across his throat, ducking under the spray of blood which hit another man coming up behind him square in the face. Taking advantage of the man's momentary blindness as the dagger wielding thief fell Altair punched his hidden blade through the man's mouth and out the back of his neck. When he pulled back he scooped up the kukri that had fallen from his lank fingers and as he sidestepped around rammed it into his left shoulder right at the exact spot where it would pierce his heart.

The thief with the bastard sword swung at him as he finished off the man with the kukri. It was obviously not a preferred weapon because he was slow to swing it and moved in predictable patterns that Altair flitted through and around while he kept an eye on the other two still standing who were circling around him. The sword came down, hard, and Altair jumped away, the brick was not so lucky and they chipped under the weight of the blow as the thief pulled it back up to swing again.

Sidestepping right into the last thief with a dagger Altair grabbed him by the front of the collar, shifted the weight distribution and practically picked the thief up before half thrusting half throwing him at the man with the bastard sword. They hit head on and the man with the sword cried out, apparently dagger thief hadn't turned his weapon away because when they fell apart the swordsman had a new red stained wound on his chest. They fumbled in a tangle of limbs and Altair bounded over to them before the last man with a short sword could get to close and swung his leg back before landing a deadly blow against the dagger thief's neck. Bone and nerves broke under Altair's iron toe and he spun around quick enough to catch the short sword on his own as the man's head snapped lankly at the end of his neck.

"You should run," Altair told the man as they scraped swords together, trying to overpower each other. "I really have no reason to kill you-

"You killed my brothers," the thief hissed. "Die," and suddenly Altair saw stars when the thief kicked him under the belt. That wasn't fair and Altair leaned over but had enough sense to not leave himself defenseless and scrambled out of range of the man's jabbing short sword.

"Okay; now I have reason to kill you," Altair ground out and watched irritably as both the man with the shivs and the bastard sword were getting to their feet, the former with far more success. His eyes darted around the square; Lanz was gone. Damnit. Shaking away the pain as best he could he righted himself as the swordsman flung himself at Altair who dodged and let his own sword kiss the thief's collar bone, drawing blood and making the man hiss in pain. A suitable distraction that allowed Altair to once again step within arm's length range and pull his left fist back, hidden blade poised, before ramming it deeply into the man's neck. He kicked the man off his blade and turned to the last two, both injured and eyeing him warily.

"Your leader ran," Altair said standing before them, sword in front of him, "And all your friends are dead. Do you _really_ want to fight me?"

The thieves looked between each other, they were afraid. He knew they were afraid. But fear or no the one with the shivs ran at him. His charge ended when Altair jumped at him, landing with his feet on his chest toppling him to the ground his hidden blade through the man's throat. When Altair turned back to the thief with the bastard sword he'd since let it drop; he didn't want to fight anymore, he wanted to live.

Altair wiped the blood off his curved short sword on the thief he'd just killed, his hidden blade followed, and he walked over to the swordsman who was on his knees holding the wound on his chest. "I don't want to die, please," the last Cento Occhi thief breathed.

"Where did Lanz go?" Altair demanded leaning over the man.

"I don't know-

"Lie to me again and you will die," Altair growled grabbing the man by the neck with his left hand and squeezed a vital pressure point that he knew was causing the man to see black spots cloud his vision.

"He-he has another hide out east of here," the man scrambled to answer. "Well… it's where he used to live," he added.

"Where?" The man was reluctant to answer and Altair allowed his muscles to tense, the hidden blade slid out and pressed against the man's neck, drawing a thick bead of blood.

"By the Colosseum!" the man cried. "I swear to god I don't know where. Please; don't kill me," his eyes begged.

"I don't kill people who help me," Altair said softly and the man seemed relieved, "But you did not," his eyes hardened and the man managed only to gargle before Altair finished the job and sank his hidden blade into his neck.

Yanking his blade away the man fell to the side and Altair sighed. There was no reason for this to take so long. He looked up at the sky, the sun was in its downward arc, but he couldn't go back to Tiber Island; not yet anyway. The mission was not complete, not until Lanz was dead.

There was a fluttering of wings and Altair looked over; a pigeon hand landed on one of the garden boxes of the first story of Lanz's old hideout. It cooed and cocked its head at Altair who slowly went over to it. "What are you doing here little one?" he asked it and it let him pick it up from the empty garden box. They were such trusting creatures and Altair once again found himself thinking that he did indeed like pigeons. "Mind if I borrow something?" he asked though knew it wouldn't reply and holding it firmly in one hand he stretched out one of its wings and it cooed angrily when he yanked out two of it's primary feathers. He let it go quickly and it bat its wings against his head and face showing it's displeasure before flying away with about as much dignity as a pigeon could manage.

Faustina had moved from where she'd fallen after Altair had landed on her. But not much since when he actually got to look at her he saw that one of her legs had been bent in a totally wrong direction at the knee. As he'd thought she'd bled out, her crimson blood staining her fancy blue, silk shirt. He knelt on one knee next to her body his fingers flicking down her eyes and offered her her last rites before drawing one of the pigeon feathers through the blood on her torso and tucking the feather back into a pouch on his side.

The practice of bloodying a feather for a proper hit had died out years ago as the Brotherhood had left the Holy Land and shifted west ward. But old habits died hard and Altair still kept track of his proper kills with them. He'd filled more books then he could remember with the pressed, dried and labeled bloodied feathers, much like the Dais' had back when it was common to do so. Now though Altair was the only one to practice the old tradition and he knew that once he stopped there would never be another. It was lucky that old habits were hard to kill.

But he still had one feather left; and Lanz was still out there.

—

Altair was sure that if he decided to move at the time his limbs would have creaked like rusty hinges he'd been sitting under the arch for so long. He'd been up on the third level of the colosseum waiting all day and it was starting to get dark. He'd been at it's apex earlier before catching sight of a red flash that had turned out to be a Cento Occhi thief. Sadly all he'd seen was the general direction the thief had gone as he'd run around the massive building before Altair lost sight of him. Now he was on the third level and had barely moved from his place in several hours and all of his bones ached and his muscles felt sore. But it was an ache of inactivity more then the body itself being tired. Altair hated sitting still more than anything, and while he could freeze in place for hours without strain to his body his mind hated it, which led to the aches.

Sighing he shifted him jaw to his fist he'd propped up on his bent knee and continued to survey the ground around the old stadium. Shadows splashed across the open ground as the sun set off to his left casting things into harsh relief. People who walked the path around the building seemed ugly and elongated, the shadows twisting their forms so they looked like long gnarled fingers or creeping spiders across the earth.

Altair shook his head. His imagination was getting away from him.

Boredly he noted a group of guards stop and talk to someone, they didn't seem to like whoever they were talking to because their hands gripped their swords. Nothing very interesting and he pulled his eyes away drumming fingers on his hidden vambrace and wishing what he was looking for would just fall into his lap. Not that it ever worked like that. When his eyes passed over the scene again he saw the guards were still there, their stances were defensive now, and highly agitated. What the poor commoner had done to deserve-

Altair quickly shifted into his second sight to see the situation better and his eyesight sharpened, the Key began to thrum softly under his clothes helping him catch every detail.

Well; someone must still believe in Altair (even if he didn't believe in them) because right there was the little rat he was looking for. He guessed sometimes things really did just fall into your lap.

Swinging down from the third story made his entire body sigh with total relief at the movement of muscle, bone and sinew as he released his hold on the floor, fell, and caught the second story landing with both hands then dropped again strait to the ground. He grunted when he hit terrafirma and as he straitened a myriad of bones down his back and along his limbs popped and creaked. It felt good to be in motion. Even more so as he made his way to the group of guards who were still arguing with the man.

Sticking to the long shadows of the colosseum and the twitching spindly trees Altair slipped closer to them, silent as a ghost. Up close he could see that like the guards Lanz was agitated and kept brushing his long forelock out of his face. When he actually took to listen to what was being said he realized the guards weren't harassing Lanz, instead they were bickering about the footpad's relative safety. Apparently word had gotten to Cesare that an assassin had taken out Faustina and was after Lanz because these guards were here to make sure Altair didn't finish the job. Lanz himself seemed apathetic towards them and thought they were about as useful as a bunch of kitchen hens; which of course was making the guards displeased since they were just here to do their job.

Altair leaned against one of the nearby trees, the bark grating and breaking under where he kept his familiar curved short sword and just watched them for a time. It became rather ridiculous since Lanz didn't want to accept their help but the guards were being insistent since it was by order of Cesare.

After a few humorous moments of watching the would be allies bicker Altair pushed off the tree and walked towards them from the side; they didn't notice him as by now the sun had set and the shadows were long. "I could just save you the trouble," Altair said suddenly startling all the assembled.

Lanz whirled, his long forelock flopping in front of his face and he paled in time to see Altair, and got to watch Altair suddenly jump at him hidden blade extended. Eyes widened and then there was a rush of blood as Altair's blade found Lanz's throat and Altair gently lowered him to the ground, softly whispering the familiar words and drawing the feather across the wound in his neck and slowly rising back to his feet. All of this happened in less then ten seconds and the guards barely registered Altair had spoken when suddenly Lanz was dead and the assassin was standing in front of them. "You're welcome," Altair said smirking under his mask before bolting.

One guard yelled out and then he heard them chasing him. He led them around the colosseum, dodging around some other guards who had heard their fellows yelling that an assassin had taken another life. Finally he spotted what he wanted. A short building, barely taller then Altair himself with bars for walls set into marble and one door. He threw himself into the tiny building and dropped down the chute that rested at it's bottom, ignoring the ladder entirely. The guards' yelling grew in pitch as Altair stood from the slick sewer floor ignoring the slime on his hands and was already running down the low ceilinged passage. The gate above was thrown open and the guards stamped down the ladder, one of them carried a lantern.

It wouldn't do them much good here since here it was pitch black and even assassins needed lamps to get around. That was unless you had vision that could literally light up even the darkest night, so long as you there was even the slightest hint of biological life. Which is exactly what Altair found and over the guards yelling at each other in the darkness they couldn't hear his footfalls as he ran through the labyrinth of the sewers till he'd left them far behind and their voices had grown dim.


	12. What Words Don't Say

This chapter/story has been removed or edited because it contains mature material.

You can find the story/full unedited chapter on my AO3 under the name Xazz.


	13. Divine Comedy

Altair felt like he was being watched by vultures when he and two of his brothers entered the Rosa in Fiora. It was morning still and some patrons from the night before were being forced out of the brothel while some were coming in. But it was very obvious to him that as soon as the three assassins entered the building that the courtesans were watching them and were probably very interested but none of them came forward, since they came in gear, hoods up, heads sweeping back and forth like birds of prey. They might had both been in dangerous professions, though for entirely different reasons, but it was clear that while the girls were prey these men were predators, which to them was both frightening and exciting.

Finally one of them picked up the courage and approached them. "Hello, how may Rosa in Fiora be of service to you gentlemen?" her words were sweet and she touched Altair's arm, he let her.

"We're here to see your Lady," he said curtly, his tone leaving no argument that they were not here to be social, they were here to work.

"Ah, of course," her smile was fake and forced, "Please follow me," she turned on her heel and they followed her, the feeling of being watched died but Altair could taste the disappointment in the air as they left and smirked under his mask. They followed the courtesan down a side hall to a large set of ornately carved doors on which she rapped her knuckles.

"Who's there?" called a voice from inside.

"Lady Claudia there are men here to see you," the courtesan replied and Claudia quickly bid her to enter. She pushed open one door and stood aside for the assassins to stream past her in silence, not even their equipment jangling. Casting one look inside she closed the door.

"Lady Claudia," Altair pressed his hand over his heart and bowed forward, the other two followed his example.

"Aalam," she grinned, "Only two months since I've seen you and you return again. You already have one over my brother, it deficiente," she rolled her eyes.

"You are far to hard on him my lady," he said helpfully stepping forward when she stood up from her large desk and she came around to hug him.

"What can I do for you Aalam?" she asked leaning against her desk in a way that was sure to make eyes wander, Altair kept his eyes to her face.

"We're here for information. I and my brothers," he motioned to the two who were watching silently, "are tasked with a kill you could offer us information on."

"Tell me who and I would gladly help."

"Brother Ristoro," he said and watched Claudia's face twist in dislike.

"He is a bad one," she frowned.

"Precisely why he's to be eliminated," he said.

"And why would you think I would be able to help you?" she asked.

"You mean other then you would if I asked?" and he got to watch pink flush across her cheeks. "A courtesan complained to one of our brothers."

"So because a courtesan complained my brother sent two assassins and a novice to deal with it?" she rose a brow at him. "Don't let them hear that or I'll never get them to shut up," behind him the assassin snorted and smothered a chuckle quickly.

"He was already on our list, we simply lacked information," he said.

"What sort of information do you want?"

"Any that you have."

"I will save you the more disgusting details my girls tell me then," she said and Altair felt his eye twitch, "He lives in a cathedral with several other priests, to the east of here. My girls tell me that Borgia men patrol around the church more regularly then most, not that it is necessary since Ristoro is quite capable of taking care of himself and has used a knife a bit to well against their flesh more than once," Altair's eyes narrowed as she spoke. "But he is a respected priest and in very high standing among the lesser holy men of Rome despite his obsession with women," she rolled her eyes. "And apparently he is an atheist," she added.

"A holy man who doesn't believe in God? Whoever heard of such a thing?" he asked sarcastically, she flashed a grin at him.

"Other than the complaints of a courtesan may I ask why he's being targeted?"

"Do you care?"

She put her hands on her hips, "I have a right to know why you're going to kill one of my regular patrons yes," she said.

He sighed, "He works for Ceasare, that's all you need to know and that is all we need to kill him," he said.

"I am always here to help the Order should they need it," she said.

"Well you have been very helpful," he nodded, "Thank you," and he turned away from her to the other two who were waiting.

"Aalam," she called as he was about to leave, he turned back to her, "Tell my brother if he doesn't come visit me I am coming to Tiber Island to give him a piece of my mind," laughter bubbled from the three men. "That goes for you too," she sent him a look.

"I shall keep it in mind," and he closed the door behind him.

—

Sometimes it was just easier to take the streets of Rome over climbing up to the rooftops. While from the air it took less time walking the streets drew less attention, and for a priest with ears tied to the Borgia it didn't hurt to not draw attention to ones self.

"Enu is lagging behind," Dante noted to Altair as they walked. When Altair looked behind them indeed the novice was following behind them slower. "Enu hurry it up," he called after seeing that Altair had seen it as he had. The novice picked up his speed so he was only a few feet behind them. "What shall we do with Ristoro?" Dante asked him, "And the other priests," he added.

"They are innocents until proven otherwise," Altair said.

"So the Creed protects them from our blade," Dante said with a bit of a yelp as they side stepped around a horseman who apparently wasn't looking where he was going as they galloped the beast down the street. Dante threw curses after them before turning back, muttering under his breath.

"It protects them so long as they do not stand against us," Altair reminded him. "But if Ristoro is in Cesare's pocket I can't imagine the others aren't as well."

"But they are not going around killing people," Dante said darkly.

"No, no they are not," Altair agreed.

"Yet anyway. Madness is a disease that spreads. Soon we may have an entire church full of killers," he frowned.

"Good thing we're stopping the blight now then."

"Yes," Dante nodded, "Christ," he sighed, "What is with that novice?" he shot a look behind them, Altair glanced over his shoulder. Once again Cipriano had fallen behind them, head down, which was odd since novices were taught from a young age to keep your head up and always be on the lookout for danger. He opened his mouth to call to him again but Altair stopped him.

"I will get it," he put a hand on his friend's arm and moved back to join Cipriano. "What is it?" he asked as soon as he fell in step with the younger man. The novice gave him a hard look from under his hood, eyes dark with annoyance. Altair's brows furrowed. "Speak novice and don't just scowl at me like Giovanni does because you wish to act like a child," he said giving the novice the same hard look back.

Cipriano looked away to the road five feet in front of them, "You seemed oftly close to Claudia Auditore."

Altair sighed, "That's what you're about?" he asked as if unable to believe him, "If I thought it would help I'd smack you for being so dumb," Cipriano stared at him, shocked he'd say that. "I've known Claudia since I entered the Brotherhood, she is a sister to me-

"Not that it isn't obvious she'd rather be more," he said albeit in spite.

"Well that's not something for you to worry over is it?" he asked, "She isn't even my type. Now stop sulking, we are still on a mission," he added curtly, and looked up seeing that Dante was waiting for them at the end of the street, half hidden in the shadow of a building.

"You do not have to flirt back at her though," he actually snapped, though softly.

Altair made a motion for Dante to continue without them, they would catch up, before he grabbed Cipriano and shoved him into a nearby alley. Shadows enveloped them and Altair pressed him up against the wall. "This jealousy is pointless and unattractive," he told him, "I will tell you what I have told Ezio in regards for my relationship with Claudia; I have no interest in her, she is a sister despite what she wants," Cipriano looked away uncomfortably. "There is a reason I am with you and not some woman; remember that," he added, "There is no reason for you to be jealous. Do you understand me?" his voice was not unkind but it was firm.

"Yes," Cipriano whispered.

"Good, now come, I wish to finish this mission before the day is done," he pressed his lips between Cipriano's eyes before releasing him and leaving the alley. Cipriano followed quickly and shortly they caught up with Dante and the novice didn't lag behind them after that.

—

It probably wasn't a good thing Altair liked hunting in churches. They were holy ground, the land of God and his priests and nuns and death did not come here unless it was in the form of an already filled casket for service. But that was where he and Dante were, sitting in the pews, heads bowed as if in prayer, speaking quietly to one another. Cipriano had taken a place outside on the rooftops that offered the best place to shoot from, Altair had left him to find his own spot since he did know best.

Above them the arched ceiling of the cathedral loomed, the vaulted ceilings and multi columned building seemed to hang over them like a crouching tiger, coiled back and ready to strike. It was quiet within the building, despite the good amount of people there who were actually doing what the two assassins feigned doing, which was praying. Altair couldn't remember the last time he'd prayed with feeling. Even as a Muslim Allah had always seemed distant to him, and didn't care for him or what he wanted. Perhaps when he'd been a child he'd really believed in Him but with even mortal age and seeing the disgusting, ugly, evil side of men and had spilled their blood across his hands belief had waned and now he no more believed in Him then a dog might. Perhaps that was why he liked hunting churches and cathedrals. It was like he was spiting what went against the very bricks the place was made from. They were places of worship to the benevolent God who gave them life; yet two death dealers were among them and no one would know it until blood had been spilled.

Red flickered at the corner of Altair's sight and he looked up, peering around the his beaked hood as he switched into his second sight. There, like a beacon in the darkness of the commoners, was his target; Ristoro. He spoke with a young woman who was kneeling and she stood when he offered a hand. Two beaked hoods followed Ristoro as he walked the cathedral, the woman following by his side smiling slightly now and then, glancing at him as they spoke, words to quiet for either to hear. As one the two men stood and walked swiftly and silently to the northern side aisle and walked along it's length to the ornate transcript fading into ghost forms beneath columns as they watched their prey show the woman down the other end.

Dante followed in Altair's wake as they crossed the top of the nave, never once did Ristoro look back and they ghosted into where his feet had trodden. The brother led the woman out into the cloisters and then back to where the priests slept which made Altair's eyes narrow. Back here they were alone and Altair could feel Dante beside him tensing. Altair felt what he felt, something was off, something wasn't right and before they continued down the hallway he stopped the other assassin with a hand.

Sure enough, instinct did pay off for not a moment later guards came into view and spoke to Ristoro quietly. "Guards in a cloister cell, how quaint," Dante muttered his voice devoid of his usual humor. "What do we do?"

"Ristoro is mine. The guards," he cast a golden eye at Dante, "The Creed doesn't say anything about guards."

"I'll keep them busy," he promised and they peered around the corner, they were still talking to the priest. "When you say," there was the soft hiss of steel against steel as Dante's hidden blades sleuthed from their locked position.

Altair waited until it looked like the guards were about to leave and Ristoro continue on, the woman at his side seemed nervous, maybe she; unlike the men, felt they were all being watched. "Now," he whispered and Dante shot out from behind the cover of the corner strait at the guards. One was dead as they drew their swords and Ristoro grabbed the woman as he saw Altair break cover, the guards however were busy with Dante and didn't notice him.

A blade appeared against the woman's neck and she screamed as Altair drew near. The priest was strong and lifted her off the ground, using her as a human shield between himself and the assassin. "Let her go Ristoro," Altair said calmly as he followed them down the hall the older man was going down. He held his hands by his sides, it was obvious he didn't have a weapon.

"I will not be taken so easily assassin," the bald man snarled. "Come at me and she will die," he pressed the knife harder against the tender flesh of the woman's neck and she whimpered, stretching her chin up as far as it would go to avoid the sharp point.

"I cannot allow that. Nor can I allow you to live," a knife appeared in his hand, he didn't throw it at the priest though, but out one of the windows, shattering the glass. It startled the priest and the woman screamed as the blade dug slightly into her neck. It was a distraction Altair needed and he lunged forward grabbed the priest's blade hand, twisting it to the point bones could not be twisted and they snapped, stealing the woman away from him at the same time.

Now it was Ristoro's turn to scream and with strength only given to those who were running on fear or pain (to which Ristoro was under the influence of both) wrenched his shattered wrist from Altair's grip and ran. The woman sobbed and clung onto Altair's robes and he lowered her to the floor by the wall before taking off after Ristoro.

Another window shattered, this one in front of Altair and an arrow appeared in the priest's back. He stumbled, and fell forward onto his face, sliding forward on the slick floor. Altair jumped onto him, blade cocked before burrowing it in Ristoro's neck.

"To hell with you assassin," Ristoro spat at him into the floor, blood being sprayed a few inches from his bleeding neck.

"You'll have to wait a long time to see me there Ristoro," Altair whispered softly pulling his blade from his neck which was covered in blood. "Requiescat in pace," his fingers brushed down Ristoro's eye before they went to the pouch at his side and he pulled out a pigeon feather, bathing it in the late priest's blood and put it back.

"He's dead?" Dante jogged down the hall towards him.

"Very much so," Altair said.

"Lets get out of here before more guards come, one of them got away from me-

"You didn't chase him?"

"I thought I would worry about our target over one scared guard," Dante challenged him.

"Very well. Lets go," he nodded and they found their way out into the open garden of the cloisters, Altair glanced along the rooftops catching the flicker of blue that was Cipriano standing on the rooftop looking out over Rome to make sure nothing snuck up on them.

Inside the cathedral was still quiet except for the soft murmuring of prayers and the sigh of cloth brushing against each other. The assassins did nothing to add to the noise before the cathedral doors were suddenly thrown open with a bang.

"Assassin!" Altair and Dante froze as no less then twenty guards streamed into the cathedral.

"Meet you outside," Altair said throwing a knife, which found itself in someone's heart, before they split.

Altair couldn't bother himself with worrying if Dante would make it on his own, he had his own problems and Dante was not novice, he would not go down without a considerable fight. A pack of guards ran at Altair's heels as he sprinted down the side aisle leaping up to catch a low hanging cross beam that held a lantern and hauling himself up onto the narrow metal bar. The guards yelled at him but he'd already moved around, fingers finding the tinniest of handholds in the crown of the column the bar was in and lifted himself up onto the second row of arches where the stained glass started.

Multiple crossbow shots were fired in his direction but Altair forced himself to ignore them, making his hands instead worry over the tiny holds he could find in the steel mounted glass. Instinct guided him as he scrambled up the almost sheer glass face and below he could hear screaming of commoners and the guards yelling at one another. Finally Altair reached the spot on the glass where he could easily access the roof and smashed open the beautiful stained windows wide enough for him to squirm through and grab one of the lowest holds before extracting himself from the chaos within the cathedral.

Hauling himself up to the roof he paused only long enough to get his feet under him before taking a running leap from the top of the lower roof. The jump was something no ordinary human could make, but Altair hadn't been ordinary in years. He rolled into the fall and his shoulder went numb from the impact. If it hadn't been for the Key the bone would have shattered, and he would be dead anyway from falling from such a height onto the ground.

Standing two streets away on the roof tops Altair scanned the area around him in his second sight looking for traces of Dante or Cipriano. For a moment he worried something had happened to Dante in the cathedral, but he had to remind himself yet again that Dante was not some novice, he was a full assassin and could take care of himself just fine. Finally he caught the barest flicker of blue shoot out from the northern transcript followed by a hoard of red. He took off and was racing across the top of the roofs as fast as he could scramble. From across the set of buildings Altair saw another blue figure who was reaching for a high building. He pushed his attention away from him though and refocused his attention on Dante who was running down the street as fast as he could, one arm clutched up to his chest.

Three throwing knives found themselves into the backs of guards and they were quickly followed by three more. The death of six members of the guards so suddenly drew their attention and Altair stood to his full height to look down on them. Their few short seconds of gawking cost them four more lives from arrows that wedged themselves into hearts or between the narrow gap of the collar and the spinal column and ripped open the throat.

Now the guards didn't care about Dante, they were to busy trying not to die from the death being rained down from above by arrows, throwing knives, and once Altair had run out of those he'd started shooting at them with his wrist mounted gun. Eventually a few made it to the roof, they simply couldn't hit enough guards fast enough as they were suddenly everywhere. Altair kicked several in the head as the tried to get up onto the roof and sent them to an early death as they splattered against the ground, and that was if they weren't already dead from a the force of Altair's steel toed boot striking their skull. Some did make it up onto the roof though and the ones Altair didn't slay quick enough found themselves littered with arrows burrowed so deeply into their flesh you would have had to cut them out leaving them to look like pin cushions.

Feeling he'd given Dante enough time to get away Altair ran. There were still to many guards, despite killing almost two dozen of them, and Altair found a cable crossing over the street and barely noticed its dangerous sway in the wind as he practically sprinted across it. "Run!" he barked ahead of him to Cipriano who was still littering the guards behind him with arrows. Thankfully the novice took the proper action and leapt from the taller building to the roof below and raced on ahead of Altair. Altair watched in more then a little amazement when Cipriano turned, running backwards and still drew back his huge bow. He swore he could feel the wind from the arrow it passed so close to his face and just behind him someone screamed. Cipriano had shot him in the face.

"Where are we running?" the novice yelled back to him, his quiver was finally empty.

"Anywhere not here!" Altair laughed leaping across a gap in the buildings. The guards were slowly lagging behind them, their heavy armor and the late morning sun bearing down on them and making it hard to keep pace with the two lightly armored assassins who were busy vaulting off the edge of buildings and scrambling across cable crossings. It took a long time, to where Altair's shadow was finally nothing more then a dark spot under him, but the guards finally fell back and none more were following.

Both panting, Cipriano seeming to have more difficulty drawing in the proper air as he leaned over his knees gasping. Altair sagged against a roof garden and they both looked way to worried about the sound of boot-falls racing towards them. Without ceremony Altair grabbed Cipriano by the back of his collar and practically tossed him into the large covered garden box, he followed immediately. The both struggled to breath softly as the boot falls came closer as they crouched in the garden box.

"I don't see them."

"I just saw them though," these were not the voices of guards.

"To you think they fell into the Tiber?" the feet moved away from them to look over the side of the building which indeed rest close to the Tiber.

"No," the new voice sounded certain, "I have worked with Master Aalam before. He would never just fall into the Tiber," Altair let out a great sigh of relief. He recognized that voice now.

"No I wouldn't," he spoke up glad he didn't have to keep himself or his breathing quiet anymore and hopped out of the garden box. Two novices stood there looking very surprised he'd just come from there even more so when Cipriano followed a moment later but sat back down on the low garden wall to finish catching his breath.

"Didn't I tell you?" Altair looked over at the novice that had spoken, the third one who came up to them.

"What are you doing here Marco?" Altair asked him between drawing in breath. "And the rest of you," he shot looks at them from under his hood."

"Dante came back to the hideout and told Ezio you two were being chased. He sent us to help you."

Altair sighed, almost irritably, "Is that so?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Why did he do that?" The novices just looked at each other before shrugging, they didn't know, they were simply following orders. "Dante is all right?" he asked.

"He had a broken arm," said another of the novices, "and some cuts, probably, I'm sure he'll be fine though."

Altair just 'mmed' and looked over at Cipriano, "You all right novice?"

"Just about," said the dark archer who finally had gotten his breathing under proper control after pulling down his face mask. Once he breathed normally he stood and adjusted his bow across his shoulders to be more comfortable.

"Shall we novices?" Altair asked the group, the three additions nodded, Cipriano just pulled his mask back into place. "Good," and he headed towards Tiber Island, they fell into step behind him.


	14. Training Pigeons

Altair found Ezio in the stable fitting one of the horses there with tack, they acted as if the other wasn't there for several minutes till Ezio finally acknowledged him after tightening the girth belt of the saddle. "You're alive I see," he smiled slightly at him and led the horse from the cell to where a few others were grazing on a small patch of grass.

"You did not need to send those novices," Altair said.

"Dante said you were in trouble, I took the appropriate measures," Ezio shrugged. "How is he? Last I knew he was with the doctor."

"Arm is broken, and he lost two fingers on his left hand," Altair said leaning against the fence, Ezio watched him, holding the reigns of his horse who's front hooves pawed at the ground. "And I was not in trouble," he stared at Ezio from under his hood. "You need to use novices better-

"I will not see one of my men be hurt because of my lack of action," Ezio snapped interrupting him. Ah, of course. Altair hadn't noticed before, for Ezio hid it well, but he blamed himself for the fire at the inn that had killed nine novices, and had hurt four of them so badly that they would never become assassins.

"We are in a dangerous profession Ezio; death is _always_ an option," Altair reminded him calmly. Ezio had no reply because there was no denying this. "Outnumbered or not the novice and I would have been fine, I would have brought us back safe."

"You are far to cocky-

"I am not," Altair growled and stepped closer to him, "I know the extent of my abilities, I know when to fight and when to flee. I am not some novice who has to much bravado, I am a Master Assassin and I do not need novices getting under my foot."

Ezio almost glared at him, "You may be a Master Assassin Aalam, but you are also my friend and I will not allow harm to befall those any more," he said fiercely. "If you feel I did wrong so be it, but I will not apologize for it."

"I am not asking you to. I am just a knife in the crowd Ezio, one of many who would die for the Brotherhood," he reached out and grabbed Ezio's arm, "Friendship does not make us weak, but it does leave us vulnerable," a lesson Altair knew all too well. "You do not have the luxury of such a weakness."

"Who are you to say?"

"A friend who is telling you that if you act stupidly because you care to greatly for your friends and end up getting killed there would _be no Brotherhood_. I told you before Machiavelli needs you to keep most of us in order, because we would follow you into death, I can tell you most wouldn't do the same for him," he said firmly. "I am your friend, I shall always be. But do not let it cloud your judgement and make you do things that are unnecessary."

Ezio frowned at him but all his fire in the argument was gone. It was very hard to argue when the person talking was doing so calmly and speaking logically. "I am sorry I worry to much then," he sighed at last.

Altair's lips quirked and he patted Ezio on the shoulder, "If you did not I would fear there was something wrong with you Ezio. Then I'd have to go have words with Machiavelli and demand to know where he had acquired such a terrible doppleganger," that made Ezio laugh and all was forgiven.

"You will never be on his good side if you keep this up Aalam," Ezio told him.

"He doesn't have a good side," again Ezio chuckled. "Unless you could present me with a portrait, the better artists seem to be able to find even the best side of people. How else could they paint someone like Lucrezia so innocently?" more laughter.

"All you speak is true," Ezio agreed. "I must be off now though," he said and Altair watched him climb up onto the horse.

"Where are you going?" he clasped his hands behind his back.

"I have located another of Leonardo's war machines," was all he said.

"Ah," Altair nodded, "Safety and peace Ezio, may you return quickly."

"Upon you as well my friend," and Ezio pulled the reigns away from Altair who watched him kick his horse into a canter. The citizens on the street parted in front of him like the Red Sea. They all knew who the master of Tiber Island was; and it was not Ceasare.

—

He knows he's being followed, badly, but doesn't bother acknowledging them and when he turns back slowly he catches the briefest glint of blue at the edges of his vision he pretends to not see them. Then he turns back around allowing a small smile to his face and continues on his way down the hallway towards Dante's room. There he stops and knocks and a gruff, unamused voice bids him to enter. He does and almost laughs at the sight of his usually good natured friend sitting up in his bed looking like he just took a dive into horse manure. Nothing about his face is amused and there is an uncharacteristic scowl marring his face.

"I wish I could draw and capture this moment," Altair said.

"Fuck you Aalam," Dante snaps not even bothering to hide his irritation as he struggles with his splint and sling, the broken left arm is so thickly bandaged that he can't even move it. He feels sympathy for the man though; Dante is left handed, and now he's lost two of his digits. At least he did not lose the hand.

"I am merely a jester," Altair said helpfully coming forward, he doesn't close the door all the way as he walks over to the bed.

"Yes, because there is certainly no one _funnier_ then you."

"Come now, there is no need for such bite. I came to see how you were feeling," he grabbed the stool that the doctor probably occupied and sat next to the bed.

"I am feeling miserable, and tired and my hand hurts," he grumbled and raised his left hand. It, like his arm, was heavily bandaged, except for the three remaining fingers which included his thumb, middle and index which he wiggled experimentally and then grimaced.

"You did not lose your arm at least," Altair said.

"I have lost my sword hand," he grumbled.

"You do not fight with swords though," he reminded the usually much more cheerful man. "You prefer the hidden blades, or the poison darts."

"I do not need a mother hen Aalam."

"I'm trying to see the bright side of things, that is all," Altair shrugged and didn't miss the quiet creak of wood as someone pushed the door open very slightly. "You will get used to it."

"You sound very certain," Dante squinted at him.

"I had a friend who lost his arm when he was younger than you are now. He adapted, so will you."

"And what happened to this friend?" he asked and Altair could hear the curiosity in his voice. It wasn't unexpected since Altair did not talk about his life before he joined the Brotherhood.

"He died."

"Why?"

"Got sick, nothing anyone could do," he shrugged but thinking about it made his chest hurt in a way he couldn't articulate.

"That is a shame."

"Indeed it is," Altair nodded, "So I won't hear any belly aching about missing two fingers," he added sternly.

"I suppose," Dante sighed heavily, "It is still a-" his gray blue eyes trained on something behind Altair. Altair finally turned and saw a curious face peering at them from the crack in the door. He didn't flee because he knew he'd been caught. "What do you want novice?' Dante demanded. Only at that did the visage vacate the door. "Just what I need, novices coming to look in on me," he grumbled.

Altair chuckled, "He was not here for you Dante. He was following me."

"And why would a novice find anything of interest in your sour bones?" Dante asked wickedly the familiar mocking smile on his face once again.

Altair sighed theatrically, "You should not speak so loudly. One of Enu's arrows might find itself in your chest," he said and Dante snorted.

"That novice does look up to you quite a bit doesn't he?"

"Indeed," Altair simply agreed. Before they could continue the door opened with a flourished bang and Altair watched Dante visibly wince when the doctor appeared. Altair did not blame him. While he'd never been treated by the man himself he got to hear the horrific tales told by the other assassins about the Tiber Island's most skilled doctor who was fierce and demanding and did not take kindly to idiots or insults. That and he had a particular fascination with leeches and Altair was very glad indeed that he'd never had to visit him. Still, no one could doubt he was skilled, more skilled than most, and while his patients might have complained they all agreed that once he was done they felt as good as new if not better.

"What are you doing here?" the sharp voice cracked from behind his beak like mask and Altair could feel him glaring at him from behind the eye holes he could not see into. "My patient needs rest and I will not allow for one of you scoundrels to deprive him of it," the doctor marched over to Altair who was quickly on his feet.

"I was just leaving," he said quickly and before he could receive further scolding he slipped out the door closing it as he heard Dante being reprimanded by the doctor. He leaned against the wooden frame for a moment listening to Dante trying to get a word in anywhere edgewise but couldn't manage it in the slightest before it was obvious he'd resigned himself to the scolding and Altair chuckled to himself.

"Aalam," he started and turned quickly. He hadn't heard someone come up behind him and he realize it was because they hadn't come up; he just hadn't noticed them. It wasn't that hard to do after all since Altair did not often bother himself with the children of the Brotherhood.

"Hello Giovanni," he said a feint smile on his face beneath his mask.

"Is he your friend?" the boy asked watching him with those curious golden eyes of his and Altair felt a pang of regret. Golden eyes on such a small boy, it was such a cruel twist of fate.

"Yes," Altair nodded and moved off to the side of the door in case the doctor decided to make a sudden show of coming out of Dante's room. At least the scolding had stopped.

"What happened to him?"

"He was caught by some of the Borgia's men. They hurt his arm," he said.

Giovanni frowned in the way children were only capable of and seemed unnaturally puzzled. "My pa-" he shook his head quickly as if there was interfering information, "My _zio_'s men hurt your friend?" he asked.

"Nothing he will not heal from."

"I do not like my _zio_," Giovanni said and Altair smiled helplessly. "He is a bad man for telling them to hurt your friend," the smile softened.

"He is," Altair couldn't argue. "What are you doing here Giovanni?" he asked.

"I wanted to see you," he said earnestly, Altair felt his brows go up but before he could comment the door once again slammed open making him start and the doctor strode out, black wax coated coat twisting around him like ink. Before the door was shut, just as loudly as it was opened, Altair got to hear Dante mutter 'how am I supposed to rest when you make so much noise' and chuckled as the doctor strutted down the hall away from him, not giving him a second look and briefly reminded Altair of an ostrich in full black feathered regalia. "He is scary," his robes settled differently along his back and he looked down to see Giovanni staring after the doctor, clinging to the back of his robes.

"You should be playing with your friends, or studying Giovanni," Altair told him.

"They are all studying. I do not need to," he looked at Altair with his golden eyes.

"And why is that?"

"I already know how to count past one hundred and can do triple digit addition that the instructor is teaching us," said the five year old. Altair sighed softly, he still did not know what had happened to the boy. He knew it involved the Shroud, the bastard device it was, and that it had healed him as an infant, but he did not know beyond that. He knew as well that the Shroud had done _something_ to him. He was just not sure what that was yet.

"Oh you do?" he asked, keeping his voice light and walked the other direction as the doctor, the novice followed quickly.

"Yes. Test me, I will show you," he stared at Altair, daring him.

"No no, I believe you," he patted his head reassuringly and Giovanni grinned, he was missing a different set of teeth now.

"I'm glad someone does."

"So you are not with your friends because they are busy studying and you are not?" the novice nodded. "And why did you think to look for me?"

"Because you do not mind that my _madre_ is a Borgia," he said in a way that should have been beyond a five year old. Altair cursed Perotto for what he'd done to his son. While the Shroud had saved his life it had altered him in ways Altair could only imagine, none of them were plea-sent imaginings either. Altair didn't argue Giovanni's fact either. "I would have looked for Francesco, but when I did there was someone else there."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. There were two of them. One of them was strange, he had funny dark skin, the other was normal," Altair ground his teeth slightly but said nothing. Giovanni was just a child, he did not know better he reminded himself silently. "They told me to go away. So I did."

"And what if I told you to go away?" Altair asked.

Silence. "You wouldn't," he said after a moment and they came into one of the partially covered courtyards where the older novices were practicing their sword work. "You and Francesco wouldn't make me go away like everyone else would," he looked at Altair expectantly.

"I wouldn't," Altair agreed and sat on a bench on the edges of the courtyard. Giovanni scrambled up next to him and they watched the two novices in the middle trading sword slaps. They were no older than fourteen or fifteen and their motions were still awkward. Their instructor kept calling out to them, reminders and encouragements, as well as down right insults when they messed up.

"Will I get to fight with a sword too?"

"Hmm?"

"When I'm older."

Altair looked over at the novice. "If you wish to stay the course as an assassin, yes, you will one day wield a blade, you would even if you wished to become a scholar. But only an assassin may use the hidden blade," a wrist twist later had Altair's said blade shoot out from his wrist guard, fitting perfectly between his middle and small finger resting on the stump where his ring finger had once been.

"I want one of those!" he cried and Altair laughed.

Sadly this drew attention and the instructor, who looked about wits end with their incompetent novices noticed Altair sitting on the bench. Now there were not many Master Assassins within the small, rebuilding Brotherhood, and there was only one who wore a red mask as well as Master Assassin's robes. "Master Aalam!" the instructor seemed delighted to have spotted him and Altair turned to look at him. "My students do not know how to wield a blade, perhaps you could assist?" he asked eyes bright in unspoken hope.

"Of course," he said and lifted up from the bench. "Do you wish me to fight them with a sword?" he asked going over to the group of novices who uttered a 'hello Master Aalam' softly in the background.

"Oh, any you wish is fine, really," the man said.

"Then I would be happy to teach them a lesson brother, how advanced are they?" Altair said.

"Excellent!" he clapped his hands, probably delighted he could take a break from this headache inducing class. "Once they have learned the standard weapon they will be given a hidden blade and sent to the field," he explained excitedly.

"So almost journeymen then?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"One at a time then," Altair turned to the novices who were eyeing him, no doubt sizing him up. "I'll go easy on them."

"If you wish," the instructor chuckled and backed away.

"You first," he gestured to one of the novices, he held a mace in his hands. He pointed at himself and Altair nodded. The others quickly moved away.

"You're not going to use a weapon Master Aalam?" the novice asked as he swung his long handled mace into the read position.

"I feel like giving you all a bit of a fighting chance. Don't worry about me. Come at me with all you have."

He looked troubled and momentarily confused before deciding that if Altair had said to come at him; he would. Stepping forward he swung the mace with as much force as he could. Altair didn't both to block, he leaned forward out of the way and flashed his hand forward, striking him in the side with 'knifed' fingertips. "Dead," he claimed and the novice looked at him stunned, to late to stop his second swing and without missing a cue Altair's palm found his wrist, slamming the heel of his hand into the exposed inner flesh of the wrist and the mace fell free. Altair caught it before it hit the ground and was already in the way to smash the novice upside the head with it. He stopped hardly an inch from the novice's face who was pale and suddenly sweating, staring at Altair like he had two heads.

"That my students, is how we all should fight!" the instructor called and Altair looked at the group of novices who looked like startled pigeons.

"You leave your middle open, correct your stance or next time there will be a blade in your kidney and not just my hand," he held the mace out to the startled novice who took a moment before snatching it and retreated to the group. "Who's next?" he asked them at large. None of them wanted to step forward. "You," he pointed, this time it was a woman with a kukri, but there was a sword at her side, just like they all wielded swords, but they all also had preferred weapons.

She stepped forward cautiously, obviously now nervous of the unarmed Master Assassin as she hadn't been before. "Come," he held out his hand and beckoned her with two fingers. There was a moment of hesitation before she leapt forward swinging her kukri in a close defensive style.

Altair jumped back. Where the novice with the mace had been offensive this one fought with defense and did not allow herself any openings. It didn't hurt that she was better tan the mace fighter as well and managed to find the tip of her blade into the very end of Altair's cape, cutting half an inch into the red and black dyed fabric. Altair just continued to weave between her strikes and that was the only almost hit she landed on him and she tried moving faster, swinging with more intensity. But it didn't last long and she grew tired quickly. This time Altair twisted around as she swung forward with the small curved blade, she put to much into that swing though and it didn't take a particularly hard kick to send her into the dirt. That didn't mean that Altair was gentle and knew the woman would have a bruise in the shape of his boot on her back in a few hours. She groaned from the ground and Altair walked over to her head, placing his boot on the back of her neck.

"Dead," he declared. "If you want to use the same strength as your brothers you need more endurance. Run more, climb more. You are good for now but you will not last long if you do not push yourself," he removed his boot and she rolled over with a groan. He reached down, offering a hand and she stared at it a moment before grabbing it and allowed Altair to help her to her feet.

Once the novices had seen that indeed it was possible to get close to the Master Assassin they were much less wary. Before when they'd seen the man with the mace ended so quickly they'd been nervous and intimidated. The woman with the kukri had proved though that while he was _very good_ at what he did there was still a chance to land a hit on him.

Sadly they found out that their assumption was very wrong and by the time Altair was done with them none of the novices wanted to move let alone fight and he knew that in the morning they would be a myriad of blacks and blues. Not one of them landed a hit on him and only the woman with the kukri had even touched his clothing. And he had been going easy on them. No hidden blade, no sword, no weapon of any kind, and he wasn't even tapping into the Key to make him faster, his reflexes and senses sharper, his muscles stronger and his bones denser. No, he was going easy on them and if they knew that they would have been afraid to see him fight seriously.

"Thank you so much for your assistance Master Aalam," the instructor told him.

"Enjoy me beating up your students?" he asked softly.

"You have _noooo_ idea," the smirk on the teacher's face was practically evil and Altair chuckled. It seemed that some things never changed and despite the seeming boundless patience the teachers of the assassins had they still enjoyed nothing more than watching their more difficult classes getting beaten up.

"Glad to have been of service then," Altair told him the grin obvious on his face.

"Perhaps you could come and help out again?" the instructor said half hopefully.

"Perhaps," was Altair's only admission and left as the man began to speak with the novices. He went over to Giovanni who was sitting on the bench, wide eyed and staring, mouth open in total fascination. "Enjoy the show Giovanni?" he asked.

"That was amazing!" the boy cried throwing up his hands. Altair laughed. "I didn't know you could do that! That anyone could do that," he looked at Altair with awe-filled eyes.

"I am not a Master Assassin for nothing," Altair chuckled, "We are the best of the best."

"I want to be a Master Ssassin," he said.

"Assassin," he corrected gently and Giovanni repeated it correctly still beaming at Altair like he was God, devotion clear in his young eyes and Altair felt a small warm smile cross his face


	15. These Lips

Not one assassin in the main offices didn't jump when the front door was slammed open, Altair included and he wasn't the only one to wince at who entered like an angry building storm.

Claudia Auditore was in the building and everyone knew that if Ezio was around he wouldn't be for much longer because his younger sister was going to _kill him_. Thankfully the assassin's life was spared because he was still on his mission to destroy Leonardo's war machines.

That did not mean by any stretch of the imagination that the rest of them weren't fair game and almost faster then Altair could stand no sooner had the assassins marked who had entered the hideout that it was amazingly empty as everyone seemed to remember they had something _very_ important to do. So that just left Altair, alone, and felt like he was standing in a snake pit.

Well this was wonderful.

"Where is my brother?" she marched over to Altair and he wondered if Claudia had ever seen a shark. Because he felt like a fish and she was one, cool yet deadly with skin that could cut and an even sharper bite.

"He is on a mission," he said when she stood right in front of him. "He has been for the last few days," he added when he could see her looking much like 'so he left when you told him,' "I also didn't get a chance to tell him what you said," he added quickly.

She scowled at him, "And why is that?"

"He had left before I returned from my mission with Ristoro," he lied and thankfully Claudia didn't know better. That was probably what saved both their skins too since if Altair had not told Ezio because they had not seen each other than there was nothing Claudia could scold them about.

Claudia frowned and looked disappointed, "I see," she sighed. "He is always so busy, even for his family," she lamented. Altair frowned, he didn't enjoy seeing the woman in this sort of mood. He often had to deal with it after the rare trips Ezio made to Monteriggioni while he'd hunted his family's murderers.

"Well am no Ezio," he hoped he didn't regret this, "But perhaps you'd enjoy my company instead?"

She brightened considerably at that, "That would a fine substitution for_ mio idiota di un fratello," _she said cheerfully. "But if you do, no mask," she shook her finger at him.

He sighed and rolled his eyes heaven-ward and was grateful for his hood. "Very well," he pulled it down and she smiled. "What do you wish to do?"

—

Altair did not know that Claudia took her duty as Matron of Rosa in Fiora so seriously till he walked the streets with her. More than one courtesan came up to her to speak, and when they did she listened and Altair could imagine her pen scratching down notes in her head. When a woman complained she promised to see what she could do to fix it or she sent the woman home if their complaint ailed them. Always when the woman left they left with a slight grin to the Auditore before going on their way.

"Your girls seem to love you," Altair commented as he walked beside her, hands clasped lightly behind his back.

"I do what I can for them," she sighed, "But there is only so much I can do."

"Do not sell yourself short Claudia. You do very well and are probably kinder then most matrons are to their girls. I have never heard a courtesan complain about you; merely everything else," that made her giggle.

"They do love to complain don't they? And how would you have heard? You said you do not enjoy the company of courtesans," she shot him an accusing look.

"Just because I don't go to brothels doesn't mean they are not useful to me," Altair rolled his eyes. "They gladly help lure guards for a bit of coin and I would not be the first of my brothers to lose the guards from them, for they are all to willing to fawn over us," he ended with a huff.

"Oh you poor thing, being lavished by beautiful women," she teased still giggling.

Altair's lips curled into the smallest smirk, "One of us must sacrifice themselves when Ezio isn't around," and she continued her giggling.

Something caught the corner of his eye and he shifted his eyes expecting to see guards. There were guards yes but that wasn't who Altair was looking at now. Teodor Viscard strutted down the street, and he could make out his golden epieu under his long black coat. His eyes consumed the street in front of him and Altair didn't doubt Ceasare had warned the remaining six members of Altair's Kill List to be on high alert for assassins after his kill on Ristoro five days prior. Altair knew Teodor would not pass him by when they crossed paths for they were headed strait for each other. He could also not let such a perfect opportunity to bring his List down to five kills pass him by.

He grabbed Claudia's wrist sharply and dragged her into a nearby alley and pressed her against the wall, his own eyes peering around the corner. He knew Teodor was close and he'd seen the man looking down each ally he passed as well to the roofs. He was not an idiot and really was on high alert for assassins.

Red flashed on the other side of the street, diagonal from them and Altair watched the officer peer down the alley suspiciously. He would be coming to this one next. He pushed back his hood and pressed his lips against Claudia's. She started underneath him but he didn't let her go. She was like that for about four seconds before she kissed him back.

When Teodor nosed around the alley they were in Altair shot him a look, "What're you looking at?" he snapped and the officer pulled back as if bitten and quickly moved on when Altair turned back to a now very flushed and flustered Claudia. He needed to strike quickly, preferably when Teodor was looking down an alley and his back was vulnerable.

He made to step away only to find that he was rather pinned by the fact that while he'd had his mind on Teodor Claudia had worked her fingers into the front of his shirt. He didn't even have a chance to protest when she pulled him forward and lips met lips. He indulged her for a few moments before pulling away.

"I'm sorry Claudia," he said softly, "But these lips are not for you," and he grabbed her hands in his and pulled them off him. "Forgive me," and then he left the alley. He could feel her watching him and refused to turn around, he didn't want to see her face. Instead as he walked down the street, slipping into a group of people before a herald, he pulled his hood and mask up effectively covering his face his eyes trained on the back of Teodor's retreating black coat.

The officer stopped before an alley, looking down it and then up to the roofs, wary of what was before him. But Altair noted that he was not to worried about what came up behind him and only glanced quickly over his shoulder a few times as he walked, much less often then he stole looks at the rooftops. It was for this reason he didn't notice Altair sneaking up behind him, shifting between groups who occupied the street before he stood right behind Teodor who was once more looking down an alley and Altair stood before a market stall.

It was a smooth motion as Teodor leaned forward slightly inspecting the alley and Altair came right up behind him. He shoved hard, and the officer, not expecting it stumbled forward. Altair's hand shot out and grabbed the back of his neck with his left hand, the right hand grabbed Teodor's right wrist as it tried to go for his epieu on his left side. Seconds later Altair had him pressed face first into the brick wall of the shadowed alley to which the man grunted in pain as the uneven brick bit into his face.

"Hello there Teodor," Altair spoke into his ear sounding almost jovial. "You were very cautious, eyes to the sky and the shadows. There was just one problem; an assassin will always come from your most vulnerable side. Your back. You should have known, and that is why you're dead." The man couldn't reply back, his lips were against the brick but he did manage a muffled cry as the muscles along Altair's forearm tensed and the hidden blade found his neck and spinal column. With a twist of his wrist Altair felt bone crumble and scrape against the blade's edge and he knew the spine was broken.

The body against the wall grew limp and Altair laid him down on the ground, shutting his eyes, "_Requiescat in pace_," he said softly and dragged one of the longest of a sparrow's primaries across his neck before slipping it back into a pouch at his side.

No one paid him mind when he slipped from the alley and until Ceasare asked for Teodor he doubted anyone would look in the alley for him, and by then Altair would be long gone.

He wasn't looking forward to the next part though and knew it was coming when blue flickered at the edges of his sight. One person, who'd probably been looking for him, spotted him as he emerged from the alley. He waited till she arrived in front of him and didn't flinch or even expect differently when as soon as Claudia stood before him that she slapped him right across the face looking positively _livid_.

"_Voi bastardo_!" she yelled at him. Some people looked, but others assumed it was a lovers spat and ignored it.

"I deserved that one," Altair agreed.

"You- you- you-" she didn't even know what to say to him that was obvious. "You used me," she finally accused him eyes bright with hurt and what was probably more than a little heart break.

"I apologize," he said simply.

"Why would you do that?" she demanded. He didn't answer. "Well!"

"Nothing I say will be good enough of a reason. So I will keep silent," he said.

She deflated there, "You're terrible," she said softly staring at him.

"I am an assassin Claudia; I do terrible things for a living," he reminded her calmly.

She shook her head at him, "That does not mean you must be so… so cruel, to me of all people," more accusations. He sighed, looked away and did not answer. He did not feel guilt for what he'd done. He felt guilty for very little anymore truthfully.

"I have already apologized; twice," he reminded her.

"You cannot apologize for something like that!"

"Then the discussion is over," he did feel bad for this though, "It is obvious you do not want me around so I won't burden you with my presence. Good day Lady Auditore," and he left, his chest ached in a familiar way when he had to leave friends behind because he had stayed in one place for to long and they'd noticed that unlike them he had not grown old with them.

He'd made it half way down the street before suddenly a hand caught his. He looked back curiously and was more then a little surprised to see Claudia there, that determined look on her face that he remembered seeing when she'd once cornered Mario and forced him to teach her to wield a knife. "Yes?" he asked simply.

"Who is she?" she demanded.

"What?"

"You said your lips were not for me; then who is she?"

"There is no one," Altair told her.

"Then why-

"I am myself and I do not give myself to anyone," he said simply, that much was true. He'd had many lovers in his life of both sexes and while he did share a great deal with them he always knew that one day he would have to leave, one day they would die and he would not. He lived in a strange dance of trying to keep the distance between himself and others while at the same time all he wanted was to have _someone_. "They are not for you, or anyone else but me and who I allow to use," he told her, "Don't take it to personally."

She frowned at him, that had obviously not been the answer she'd been expecting. "But it isn't because you have someone else?" her eyes told him her heart break. He hadn't wanted it to be like this that was sure.

"No," he lied, better to lie then to have to tell the woman that she'd lost to a _man_. He doubted her heart or pride- if she was anything like her brother (and she was)- could take that sort of perceived slight.

"Then… I accept your apology," she said slowly, watching him cautiously. "Next time tell me before you do that!" she ended in a very Claudia-like cry and slapped him across the arm. Altair smiled sadly behind his mask grateful his hood shielded his eyes. "Will you still accompany me?" she asked now half shy, half confident.

"Of course," he said simply dipping his head once.

"Mask," she said tartly and walked past him as if expecting him to follow. He rolled his eyes with a smirk before yanking it down as she'd ordered and followed her down the street.

* * *

This chapter _is_ supposed to be kinda bitter sweet and sad.

And yes I know the assassination wasn't as interesting as some have been. But sometimes an assassination is just that; sneaking up behind a guy and stabbing him. I know we've all done it in the games without a second thought. Deal with it


	16. Who We Were

The main trading docks for Rome were located just outside the city where the Tiber was both deeper and wider to allow for larger ships with greater hulls access to the rich city. Sailors called back and forth to each other and the smell of the unwashed was nearly overpowering. Altair didn't understand why cleaning had fallen out of style. He'd kept to the Muslim practice of washing regularly, especially the hands and the feet, and several thought him strange for it. It was better then the stink that came off the docks as men labored in the hot Italian sun at the very least and Altair wrinkled his nose.

The three novices with him stood behind him like ghosts. They were distractions today and nothing more, brought along to help flush out his pray who was notoriously secretive and did not show herself without proper cause. He hoped that three assassins milling about the docks would be enough of a cause.

Eyes scanning the docks Altair made a slight motion with his hand and the novices melted from around him in the shadows of the alley and spread out across the network of docks and stable ground, winding between moored ships and piles of cargo. Altair never lost sight of them in the crowd for they did not try to conceal themselves. He did notice though, with a frown, that one moved with more unease then the others, like he was tired or carried a massive burden. Perhaps he'd been mistaken to bring Francesco, especially since he noted more than once the two other novices would look up from what they were doing and search for him in the crowd as if they expected him to suddenly do stupid or perhaps even harmful.

He quickly pushed the thought away. The novice would _have_ to get over it eventually and could not be allowed to simply sulk away every day. That was partially why he'd made the novice come, so he was not just sitting around the hideout being useless like so many others were letting him. If Ezio had returned by now he wouldn't have allowed it, but few were able to tell Altair what to do in the Brotherhood since he was so close to the man. Really only Machiavelli could have told him otherwise and the two men would rather pretend the other was dead then have to interact with each other. Altair wanted to keep it that way.

Red flashed all around him but Altair for the most part ignored him as he peered through the docks looking for his prey from the shadows. He knew there would be no flicker of yellow to help him find his kill, but Altair was old enough to be able to tell the differences between someone who was just an enemy and someone who was red and his target. Then, coming down from a gangplank shining so brightly it couldn't do anything _but_ draw Altair's eyes, his prey appeared. She could obviously see the assassins, that was why she'd left the boat, because there she was vulnerable and boxed in and it was there that assassins fought their best. It was never a good idea to try and corner an assassin, it never ended well for the attacker; in fact it usually ended with a blade through the neck.

Russo shifted through the crowd and Altair shifted out of his sight. He didn't need it now and never once did his eyes leave the green caped and hooded woman as she moved through the docks glancing around every now and then to keep track of the three gray hoods that dipped and wove through the crowd as she did. She never ran, and other then now and then glancing over her shoulder she didn't even appear anxious. It was obvious she didn't want to arouse suspicion. It was a shame Altair had already marked her and little in the way of tricks would make him lose her.

Finally she left the docks and retreated into the collection of buildings that surrounded them that housed many of the warehouses and merchant buildings where the first of the ledgers and books were written and then moved into the Roman city proper. Once she'd left Altair pressed his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly. It sounded similar to the cry of a hawk and no one paid any mind to it since hawks were fairly common, especially since the docks also housed fishing vessels and the hawks were more than happy to gobble up any fish the fishermen would leave them.

The novices appeared barely a minute later, catching up to Altair as he moved towards the street Russo had taken and saw the end of her cape vanish around a corner a block or so away. He glanced at them, two of them were watching him, the third had his head tipped to the ground. "Francesco," he snapped and the novice looked up, hood shading his eyes, "be sure you're paying attention," his tone held no sympathy for the novice when he spoke. He got enough of that already and it was about time someone snapped at him for it. "You three will chase the target," he told them and they nodded. "Do not let her lead her. There is a dead end alley to the west of here and it is marked by a yellow warehouse. I will be waiting there for you. Do not kill her," he gave them all hard looks and they nodded. "And do not let her know that you are the ones leading her. Understand?"

"Yes Master," said one of the other novices, his name was Eugene and his accent was very French.

"Go then," he waved them away and they took off. Altair watched them go before they climbed up onto the rooftops, leaving one to carry the chase of Russo on foot. Once they were out of sight Altair made his way to the dead end alley behind the yellow warehouse not at all in a hurry. It felt good to have someone else doing all the chasing instead of having to do it himself.

—

At some point the chase moved to the roof, the only reason Altair knew this was because suddenly Russo was dropping down from the sky in front of him, not even seeing him because she didn't look back. It startled him slightly from his position on a side window sill as he watched her try to run down the alley as a novice leaped after her from the roofs. She was cut off though by another of the young hunters.

Head cocked to the side Altair watched the smuggler's panic starting to show when the third novice appeared behind the one who'd cut her off and the three circled her. She wasn't going anywhere.

The strange blade on her forearm, similar to an assassin's though on the top of the arm instead of under it, shot out and she got into a coiled defensive stance. Blades were drawn on the other side as well. Francesco favored a short sword in his right hand but used it with his hidden blade, Eugene took the standard sword and the last novice named Petra seemed to have a violent streak since her hands were tightly wound around a war hammer. Russo tried to break their guard and Altair was reminded of a cheetah teaching her cubs to hunt. She brought prey before them, weak or young and let them get used to the idea of using their own claws on flesh and skin while the mother watched and made sure it didn't get away.

It didn't take long until Russo had tired herself out and stood in the circle of novices panting, but her eyes were still bright and alive and it was obvious that while she was weak she wasn't out.

"Where is Master Aalam?" Eugene asked the other two, of course none of them had bothered to look up. He'd said he'd be in the alley and they'd assumed that meant on the ground.

"It doesn't matter," he grinned to himself at the renewed force behind Francesco's words. He didn't know what had happened during the chase but whatever it had been had breathed life back into the novice. A kick in the pants and being sent back out on the field had apparently been exactly what the novice had needed and not coddling and sympathy. "He told us he would here, we need to keep her here till he arrives."

"It's good to have you back Francesco," Altair called to them and all of them, Russo included, whipped their heads around and found Altair sitting on the sill, not having moved from his spot. "I was beginning to worry you'd never get over yourself," he teased and leaned back against the shutters of the window, arms across his chest.

"We did as ordered sir," Petra called. It was at that moment, while they were distracted that Russo decided she could make her get away and tried to dart between her and Francesco. To bad for her they all noticed and faster than she had any right to be Petra swung her hammer with serious force into the smuggler's soft belly. The green clad woman gave a choked scream and doubled over before she vomited up blood and past eaten food. "What are you going to do with her?" the female novice continued as if nothing had happened and they continued to appear to ignore the target though their bodies all were shifted towards her keeping track even while not looking.

"She will die," he said

"Obviously," Francesco rolled his eyes.

"I'm just deciding if she's worth me coming down there, it is a rather nice view from up here," he said smartly and the novices chuckled.

"We could do it for you," Eugene said hopefully.

Altair just 'mmmed' and looked at them, "Watch out," he noted and the novices were there in time to see Russo make a pass at Eugene with her strange retractable blade. The long handle of Petra's hammer went against Russo's neck and yanked back while Francesco grabbed her right arm where the retractable blade was and twisted it up and away making her yelp in unexpected pain, the point of Eugene's sword followed and touched her stomach as though it would be an effortless movement to run her through. Altair could hear her whimper even from his place on the sill. "Definitely not worth my time," Altair said dismissively.

"So you want us to kill her?" Francesco clarified.

"Be my guest," and Petra released the woman's neck, stepping away as did Eugene. Not speaking they were telling Francesco he could do it. There was a certain type of grace only seen by people who held lives in their hands when Francesco, still holding Russo's arm, whipped his left hand up and his hidden blade met skin and drove it home through her neck. The woman slumped and the novice lowered to the ground, shutting her eyes and Altair could hear the three of them mummering their target's last rites.

Altair jumped down from the sill and walked over to them as they put away weapons, all of them standing in front of the body as if to hide it from the Master Assassin. "I should bring novices more often, I didn't even have to do anything," he smirked behind his red mask and the novices chuckled as Altair nudged past them to see Russo and then nodded to himself.

"We're here if you need us Master," Francesco said.

"Yes, I know," he patted the young man on the shoulder. "But now our work is done, it is time to go home," they nodded before leaving the docks and returning to the city, the three novices following in Altair's wake.

—

There was really something calming about cleaning the hidden blade. It was not a simple task either and required several weeks of training to take it apart and put it back together again so one didn't put it together wrong and mess up the delicate gears, springs and the every important trigger device on a hairpin setting that shot the sled the blade sat in out for wielding. It was the reason most people even to modern day did not wield more than one blade unless that was what they specialized in, like Ezio and Dante did, because fighting with two blades meant double the work of keeping them clean and only the crazy or the dedicated wanted the extra work. Altair had used two hidden blades once, he still could if he wanted too, but he'd taken instead to the single blade this pass through the Brotherhood.

After three centuries Altair could clean all his gear with his eyes closed, he'd tried it once just to see if he could. He'd actually managed to put the hidden blade back together blindfolded except for a missing spring he'd passed over by accident, still a feat he doubted anyone but him could complete in any case. The pieces of his gear were familiar and like friends and had lasted longer than even he'd imagined since he'd taken such good care of them. Except for the blades at least, he'd had to replace those a few times, especially the hidden blade which tended to break with to much pressure. It wasn't as fragile as the old ones were but they were still plenty easy to break compared to regular swords or knives.

There was a knock at the door, "If you don't have a key go away," he called eyes on his work as he took the blade from the ejector sled to wipe it with a clean cloth.

"Open the door."

Altair's shoulders hunched forward and he made a face to himself before irritably grabbing his red mask from the table and fixing it over his face and stomped over to the door. "What?" he demanded throwing the door open and actually glaring at Ezio with his golden eyes which took the bearded man aback.

"Are you busy?"

"Define busy," Altair said.

"I wanted to talk to you-

"About?"

"My sister," he said and Altair ran through all the things he could say.

"That very much depends on what it's about," he said sternly.

"Did you tell her to come here?"

"No," Altair said slowly, "She is here?" he stuck his out the door and looked back and forth down the hall as if she'd aparate into existence.

"She was here when I arrived from my mission," he said.

"How did that go?"

"Well," he said dismissively obviously not appreciating Altair's ploy at trying to change the subject. "You did not… invite her here?"

"No," Altair's brows furrowed, "Why would I do that? She comes to bother you she'd inevitably come to me after you found some reason to sneak off and I'd have to listen to it. After several years of her doing similar at Monteriggioni I have little desire to repeat such events," he said giving Ezio a hard look and he looked away, obvious in his uncomfortably.

"Then what is she doing here?" he demanded softly.

"I did not get a chance to tell you this before you left for your mission. But when I went to kill Ristoro Claudia threatened that if you didn't come and see her; she would be coming here instead."

"Why didn't you tell me this?" he practically cried.

"I forgot because I was irritated you would sent a bunch of novices to make sure I didn't die in case you had forgotten," he gave Ezio another look.

Ezio frowned and ran his hand down his face pulling his chin and beard looking very annoyed at Altair. "I'm blaming you for this," he said pointedly, practically a growl.

Altair laughed, "Yes, blame the man who isn't related to you for your lacking of family interactions; a very wise choice," he mocked him unashamedly.

"You did not tell me she would show up-

"Oh please Ezio," Altair rolled his eyes. "It would really not kill you to spend some time with your younger sister. She misses you quite a lot."

"I am busy-

"Yes yes, of course, because the Borgia can't wait," Altair sighed sarcastically. "We do not live forever Ezio," he reminded him, "And soon your sister will be all the family you have left. It wouldn't hurt to take a moment to remind yourself why it is you do what you do," he sent Ezio a meaningful look. "Or perhaps you've got more selfish reasons to defeat the Borgia then to keep your family safe like Machiavelli does," he added.

Ezio scowled at him but it was obvious that Altair's words had made an impression and there was very little he could do to deny what the other Master Assassin said. After several moments in which Altair simply rose his brows at him questioningly he finally huffed and let his scowl drop. "You are right."

"I find I usually am," Altair prodded.

"Right and unbelievably full of yourself!" Ezio choked out and made Altair chuckle and shake his head.

"If you've gotten over the tantrum I suggest you go play nice with Claudia. And yes; I was busy, thank you," and he slowly shut the door between him and Ezio and went back to his task.

* * *

Well... I've only have the most terrible writers block for this story lately. Since there've been no updates posted on the kinkememe there have been no updates here. I did want to do something with Ezio and Altair, cause I love them interacting together. Buuuut- not working out so well so I'm just ganna do what I kinda planned on doing in the first place, so there should be more updates soon


	17. Clearing the Air

You know my author's note last chapter? Mmmm, apparently I lied cause this was supposed to be a short scene but _somehow_ Ezio decided it wasn't going to be. So... yeah; Ezio XD

* * *

To Altair there was a noticeable difference after his mission to kill Russo among the remaining novices from the fire at the inn. It was a tiny difference, as though they were more willing to smile, or more eager to go on missions when asked for it and even the three who could no longer work the field seemed to be in better spirits after being told they could no longer become real assassins. It probably had to do with Francesco. He'd been their leader during the whole mess, good at what he did but humble in aspects he didn't know and was a leader who enjoyed pleasing his men as much as they enjoyed pleasing him. Seeing him a shell of himself must have been difficult, for when a leader like that suffered the entire group suffered. But after Russo in which the fire had been lit back in the novice's chest and he stopped moping about, recovering from shock and grief of the incident at the inn by sheer force and once more acted like himself the others knew if their leader could now walk around proudly once again that they could as well.

Ezio had obviously noticed as well.

"What do you think of our novices?"

"Which ones?" Altair asked. Once again Altair found himself at the mission desk which was still in fantastic disorganized chaos.

"The older ones."

"Anyone in particular?" Ezio just shrugged at the question, "They've stopped acting like their shadows will reach out and strangle them if that's what you mean," he said, for indeed there were quite a few who had been nervous, as though their death would have reached out at any moment to kill them.

Ezio chuckled, "Yes," he agreed.

"And our forcefully made scholars have not been so depressed," he added. The three who'd been told they could not become assassins had taken it badly at first and were only now seeming to decide that their lives would go on even without a hidden blade.

"They have haven't they," he nodded.

"Why are you asking me this?"

"I just wanted your opinion," Ezio shrugged.

"Will they be taking the Leap soon?"

"I should only discuss that with Machiavelli," Ezio said and pointedly looked down at his work.

Altair rolled his eyes, "Because talking with him always gives the best results."

"You just don't like him."

"What was your first guess?"

Ezio chuckled, "He is still our Master."

"Mario was my Master," Altair said at length, "Machiavelli took the position when he died so others wouldn't in his stead. I never accepted him as my Master, and neither does your little posse," his eyes cast around the main room, sure enough he spotted one of the Master Assassins Lechezette had brought with him. There was always one around Ezio when he was in the hideout like a silent guardian. "Nor do many others."

"The Order must have an _il Mentore_," Ezio gave him a bit of a glare, "Who would it be if not for Machiavelli; they follow his orders."

"They follow his orders because _you_ tell them to," Altair said. Ezio blinked. "Are you really so dumb Ezio that you did not see that?" he cocked his head to the side, "Hmmm- maybe you are getting old."

"I am not old thank you," Ezio growled, eyes narrowed.

"Older then me at any rate," he smirked behind his mask. Ezio just growled at him wordlessly. "But I was saying Ezio," he continued his previous train of thought, "Machiavelli may be _il_ _Mentore_, but he is not the Order's Master."

"I do not see the difference," he still had that annoyed look on his face from Altair calling him old.

"When Machiavelli gives an order to an assassin, especially a Master Assassin, what do they do?" he didn't give him a chance to answer, "They go to you do they not? And Machiavelli does not give assignments to novices, he lets you do that, doesn't he?" he looked down at the papers and contracts, "Unless it involves the Templars he doesn't do much, because he knows telling a brother or sister to do something will normally be met with questioning. He is a scholar in the guise of our Master. But I have _never_ heard of a Mentor who was not first a warrior, and everything else was secondary. You will be hard pressed to find one in the Order's history."

"Mario was not as much a warrior as an administrator like Machiavelli is," Ezio tried.

"He lost his eye Ezio. But before that he was just like any other assassin, he went on missions, he flew, he fought and defended Monteriggioni to his dying breath," Ezio looked away when he said that, no doubt reliving the death of his uncle. "When you fought Rodrigo in Venice didn't Mario come to help you? Where was Machiavelli? He was here, in Rome. He is not a fighter Ezio, trained in the sword he may be, but I have known him longer than you and I have never seen him take it from it's scabbard. It might as well be a prop." He watched Ezio digest this information, "The Brotherhood is weak because it is under Machiavelli."

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Serait-il plus clair si je parlair francais?" Altair gave him an irritated look, Ezio gave him one in return but it was obvious he understood Altair. "You do not need to ask Machiavelli to do anything. He is not the Master of the Brotherhood Ezio, you are."

"You flatter me," Ezio said rolling his eyes.

"If you asked an assassin to do something they would do it without question."

"I am a Master Assassin, of course they-

"_I_ would do anything you asked without question," that stopped Ezio in his tracks.

"Y-you do not do anything you do not want Aalam."

"But if you asked me to do it, I would. Because I am a Master Assassin of this Brotherhood; one you created. Many of my fellows feel the same way. It is why I don't like Machiavelli, because you continue to let him think he is in control."

"I do not like what you're implying brother."

"Good," Altair said harshly, "Because no good comes from filling speeches with fluff and nonsense. If you want something Ezio; do it, and the Brotherhood will follow, Machiavelli be damned," his harsh golden eyes met Ezio's hard brown ones. He did not like Altair talking about Machiavelli in such a way that was obvious, but it was better than simply allowing Ezio to keep sleeping. "This is your Brotherhood Ezio; not his," he said after a long moment of silence, "Know it."

Ezio's eyes slanted away, he couldn't keep eye lock with Altair's brutal golden eyes which continued to drill into him. This couldn't be let go. He needed to make Ezio understand since he didn't seem to be able to understand on his own. He knew that Ezio did not really want to be a leader, most Mentors that Altair thought were actually any good didn't want the title; they simply had it thrust upon them. It was because of this though that they were the best. Instead of fighting for the position they had to rise into it, filling it and figure out what to do with this new found power they'd never wanted in the first place.

"You are not just saying this are you," Ezio said, it was barely a question.

"You know I'm not Ezio," he said, Ezio sighed and leaned against the table, hands folding against his face as he rubbed it.

"I had hoped I'd been imagining it," he said around his fingers.

"Why?"

"I do not-" he frowned and ran his hand along his jaw, "I would not be a good Mentor."

"You basically already are one," Altair said.

"There is more to leading the Brotherhood than you know Aalam," he gave him a hot look.

"I know what it takes to make it run as it should."

"How would you? You have never-" he stopped himself, "No wait, what am I saying?" he shook his head with a low chuckle, "I have no doubt you do. You always seem to have the answer, even when I do not," he looked at Altair, "You make me feel stupid sometimes Aalam, like I am talking with Leonardo," he smiled thinly, it wasn't a pleasant smile, but rather pained instead. Altair had nothing to say to that and remained silent. "Nothing to say for once?"

"I am smart enough to know when silence is appropriate," he said lowly.

That made Ezio laugh, "Of course you do my friend," he said shaking his head again this time in much better humor. "I doubt Machiavelli will just give up his place to me though," he said after a moment.

"If he values what he has now he will."

"That sounds like a threat."

"It is not. I will not have to do anything to him. There are whispers everywhere, few of us that were around during Mario's time are pleased by our Mentor. The thieves and courtesans are only our allies because of you-

"And Claudia," Ezio put in.

"Yes, of course," Altair said his lips pulling into a smile Ezio could see in his eyes. "If he is smart as he says he is he will step down on his own. If not, perhaps he will not wake up one day," he shrugged, "but my dislike for him is not a reason to kill him. I keep my blade for my enemies and not my brothers, which- despite all my wishes- he is still one of."

"Nothing is wasted with you is it Aalam?"

"I try not to do useless things if I can't help it," he shrugged.

"A wise philosophy to live by," Ezio nodded then he sighed, "All this politics does nothing for me," he said after a moment. "I feel you would probably make a better Mentor than me," giving Altair a hopeful look, like a puppy would give it's master wanting attention.

"Over Machiavelli's cooling corpse," he said cooly and that made Ezio laugh yet again.

"I feel you would be good at it."

"It is not my place. It would the same, I would be a placeholder, but you would still be more important."

"Bah," Ezio didn't seem impressed, "I think it would do you good to have something to occupy your time."

"I do already," Altair said.

"And what is that?" Ezio propped his chin onto his hand.

"I am still hunting the rest of that list you gave me-

"And how is that?"

"Four remain."

"So then it should not be to much longer. You have been on the hunt for three weeks now."

"I can only hope as much," he made a face under his mask. "If I remember properly I think you originally asked me about our poor novices?"

"I had forgotten-

"You're old, it is-

"I am not old!" he snapped looking so irritated Altair laughed. "Shut up," he huffed looking half way between pissed and sulking.

"It is just to easy, I am sorry," Altair controlled himself after a moment, "Really," he added when Ezio didn't seem to believe him. "But the novices," he changed the subject.

Ezio seemed to decide he wasn't irritated by Altair enough to not talk to him, "They won't be novices for much longer," he said.

"That is good," he nodded, "Cesare no doubt thinks he dealt us such a blow we could not recover from."

"He still caused us quite a loss."

"We will recover," Altair said simply, "The ones who will take the Leap are barely novices anymore. Their time in that station is over and soon those under them will be taking their places. The incident will be almost as if it never was when they come up behind them," there was a somber silence, to much life had been lost because of the Borgia that day. They had started with twenty novices, nine had died, three were unable to complete their training through loss of limb or because of some other ailment; so that just left eight. "I wish I had seen Cesare's face when he heard about it," he said.

"So do I. It would have been priceless."

"I wonder if Michealangelo could recreate it?" he asked playfully. Ezio just made a face, "You don't like Michealangelo? He is a genius," Altair said.

"I have a good friend who knows him; the two do not get along very well," he said sheepishly.

"I hear he hates the Borgia," Altair said mildly, "I can not think of a better reason to like the man," Ezio chuckled, "Well perhaps Leonardo could draw an accurate representation of Cesare instead."

"I didn't say it was Leonardo."

"Not out loud you didn't," Altair said, "Everyone knows you two are friends Ezio, it isn't a secret."

"He could do a better job than Michealangelo," Ezio stated his fact.

"I will trust you," Altair chuckled. "Who will teach those poor novices to fly properly?" Altair asked, "If you say me I am leaving Rome," he added sternly.

"Heh, no no, you wouldn't have the patience for them," Ezio said, "I've heard from some instructors that you enjoy tormenting them much more than teaching them."

"I must get my entertainment somewhere," he shrugged helplessly at Ezio's comment.

Ezio gave a breathy laugh, "Well it will not be at the expense of my novices."

"They enjoy it," Altair said his mind drifting slightly from what they were actually talking about. He saw something in his periphery and turned, his lips curled in dislike when Machiavelli came into the room. "If you'll excuse me," it was practically a growl, but to low for the ill named _il Mentore_ to actually hear.

"I will have words with Machiavelli. You just stay away from him," Ezio said sternly.

"I already am," and Altair left, though he did notice the Master Assassin of Ezio's passe scowled in Machiavelli's direction as he went to sit by the other man at the table.

* * *

Serait-il plus clair si je parlair francais?= Would it be more clear if I spoke French? (and yes Altair asked it in French)


	18. A Lesson in Anger

So basically I've been waiting to write this scene for like... ever, well okay maybe not ever but for a long fucking time! Mainly cause I get to write Altair... well; you'll see :D

* * *

Altair smiled privately to himself watching Cipriano's dark hands play at the unfamiliar folds presented to him. He just couldn't keep his hands still and just kept finding new places for fingers to flash into or caress. Cloth sighed against his probing fingers and he fidgeted as if not knowing what to do with himself in the slightest.

"They feel weird," he said looking at Eugene who was having trouble with his belt.

"They're just heavy, we'll get used to them," Francesco declared looking like a rooster he was strutting around so much.

"I agree with Enu," said another, Altair recalled his name after a moment; Alexander, "But at least you do not have a pauldron," he said, indeed Cipriano was the only one of the eight novices without a characteristic cape. He was an archer and the fabric and pauldron would just get in the way when he had to draw his bow.

"They sound like hens in a yard," Dante muttered next to Altair. He and a few others sat against the wall watching the novices fumble about in their new assassins robes, and Eugene was still have trouble with the multi strapped belt until Petra snapped at him for being useless and fixed it for him making the blonde boy blush.

"I think it is endearing," Altair told his friend.

Dante gave him a strange look, "What have you done with Aalam?"

Altair chuckled, "Ezio probably sent him on a mission," one of Ezio's posse said from around Dante.

Altair rolled his eyes at them, "Really? Than this is a terrible imitation," Dante declared and the man, Lucien, laughed.

"Both of you can kindly stop talking as if I'm not here," Altair told them sternly.

"I thought Ezio had sent you on a mission as well," the man next to Altair on the other side spoke up. Altair just hunched his shoulders and if they could see under his mask they would have no doubt mocked him for pouting as well.

"I hope you all go to hell," he said after some more teasing at his expense and the three men laughed.

"I did not think you enjoyed anything beyond fighting Aalam, let alone blundering novices," Lucien commented dryly.

"He enjoys beating them up in a training field," Dante said smartly. Altair gave him an annoyed look, "What? You can't even say it isn't true, I have seen you," he gave Altair a look back _daring_ him to claim otherwise.

"No no, I can tell you what he enjoys more than fighting," the assassin on Altair's other side said, "Thinking of ways to annoy Machiavelli."

More laughter, which grew into a roar when Altair said; "I will give you that."

"What are they laughing at?" Eugene asked his fellows and they turned towards the assassins sitting against the wall as the joke spread across them. It didn't take long before all seven assassins who were in the room were laughing. There were many things secret within the Brotherhood. But one of the things that was not (at least among those who were not novices) was Altair's contempt for Machiavelli. Of course he seemed to grate against the man without seeming to think about it so the idea of him sitting around and just coming up with ways to bother the Mentor was more than a little funny.

"Probably something stupid," Alexander rolled his eyes.

"Silence novice!" one of the assassins called between her fit of giggling.

Altair was the only one not laughing, merely leaning against the wall looking smug, arms folded loosely across his chest, glanced left and right at his brothers and sisters before saying "Definitely something stupid."

—

Altair swept his eyes quickly across the hideout rooftop as he closed the door behind him. The sun was in it's downward arc, half way to the horizon and cast long shadows across the multi-tiered roof. Then his eyes fell on who he was looking for and walked over silently.

"There you are," they jumped, obviously they hadn't heard him, which was not a surprise. "Francesco said you were up here," and he sat next to the soon to be assassin.

"He said he wouldn't tell anyone," Cipriano frowned.

"Oh he didn't. But then I threatened him with a throwing knife. You'd be surprised how quickly he talks when all I did was just pull it from it's sheath," Altair said seemingly amused. "What are you doing up here and not downstairs?"

"Getting some air. I couldn't… breath with all that activity," he admitted, looking away.

"Not a big fan of excitement?" Altair rose his brows.

"I prefer quiet," he said sheepishly, "To much noise drives me crazy. To many people to close make me feel claustrophobic."

"Well there is no one here but us," Altair shrugged and kicked his feet against the side of the building in the way he had once upon a time as a child in Masyaf.

"I doubt one could find a truly quiet place in Rome," Cipriano smirked, for indeed even as they spoke of quiet the sounds of Tiber Island drifted up to them, from the sounds of the nearby blacksmith to the horses and people on the street. The sounds of life were never distant in a place like Rome where even in the dead of night and the early morning the movement did not cease.

Altair chuckled, "If I wanted true quiet I would have to go back to the desert," he shook his head. Cipriano just 'mmed' and leaned over, shoulders touching and his head on Altair's shoulder. "Though of course than I'd never get any rest."

"Why not?" Cipriano's head shifted on his shoulder and he knew the novice was looking at him.

"I suffer terribly from racing thoughts," Altair said, made a face under his mask, "The distraction of people put's my mind to better use then thinking useless thoughts."

"So I'm a distraction?"

Altair turned to him, "Best one I got," he smirked, Cipriano gave him a small bright smile, revealing a few of his white teeth as his lips pulled back.

"I can live with that," Cipriano lifted his head from his shoulder.

"Though of course sometimes you're _to_ distracting," Altair added.

Cipriano's smile just grew before it turned into a cheeky smirk, "This is bad?"

"Sometimes."

"Like when?"

"I could think of a few times," Altair said his hand coming up and pulling off his mask.

"Liiiike?"

"Now," and he leaned over pressing his scared lips against Cipriano's bitten and mutilated ones. His gloved hand came up and cupped the side of the darker man's face the other resting on his lap. After a few seconds another hand curled around Altair's on Cipriano's lap and fingers twisted together. The thought came to Altair that he wouldn't mind staying, just like this and not having to worry about all the things he was alway worrying about. Then bitterly the thought was forced away, because nothing lasted except him. But still, for now at least he could have this.

"What's this?" they pulled apart quickly like startled rabbits. Altair hadn't even heard the person come up to them and when he saw who it was he repressed a snarl of rage. "Why am I not surprised to see you of all people participating in such disgusting acts?" Machiavelli was glaring at Altair. Altair resisted moving, because if he did it would be right at the man's throat. "And you tainted this novice as well. Does your indecency know no bounds?" Cipriano was looking away, down at the roof below them, his shoulders were tense and his face was forcibly blank.

"Watch your tongue Machiavelli," Altair said in a calm voice, surprising even himself.

"Why should I?" he snarled. "As if it is not enough that you must undermined me at every turn but now I find that you are a blasphemer and a corrupter," Altair felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as rage seethed through every blood vessel in his body. "And on top of that you have turned one of our best men into _one of you_."

That was it. Before the other man had a chance to properly understand what was happening Altair was suddenly in front of him, crowding his personal space, right arm gripping him by the front of his fine clothes and his hidden blade pressed up against his neck. "Keep talking," Altair growled, daring him. "I promised Ezio I would refrain from killing you because you were a brother and not my enemy," he hissed, "But you are walking on the edge of the cliff now Machiavelli," the man now looked startled and a bit ill at ease at the suddenness of Altair's presence before him. "And you do not want _me_ as an enemy," he was so furious he could spit, but refrained.

"You dare threaten me assassin?" Machiavelli spat.

"You dare such things to my face!" Altair snarled. "Say what you want about me, for I have shit things more impressive than you; but you do _not_ speak like that to people who are important to me," his left hand pressed harder to his neck. "Keep it up and I will kill you here."

"You wouldn't dare," he growled though the certainty of Altair's voice left him slightly pale.

"Give me an excuse," a bit of blood trickled down the length of Altair's blade. "I outrank you now Machiavelli. You are nothing more than a scholar now that you gave Ezio what you should have given him the moment he seemed able to take up the position. All I need is an excuse," more blood slipped down Machiavelli's throat as he swallowed. It was not often Altair became enraged, in fact he was rather cool and aloof most of the time and not even his irritation at Ezio was real anger, simply frustration. But this; this was anger and Machiavelli knew it and from the look in his eyes he was pretty much fearing for his life as he realized the terrible mistake he'd made in touching what Altair considered important.

"Release me," he tried to be firm but the man's voice shook ever so slightly.

"You disgust me," he growled and while he'd never kick anyone but an enemy below the belt it didn't stop him from inflicting pain and he retracted his hidden blade before slamming his left fist into the other man's gut. Machiavelli doubled over with a groan, grasping his middle. "Get out of here. If I see you again and Ezio is not around to be your shield you may not survive the encounter," and now he did spit, right in front of Machiavelli's shoes. Machiavelli groaned before managing to back away, still looking pained over the hit to his gut and Altair watched him go, face tight with barely kept in check anger. Once the rooftop was empty save for him and the dark skinned man did Altair finally turn around again and sat, his entire body still radiating anger that he was forcing down so he didn't follow the scholar and drive a knife through his neck anyways.

"Thank you," Cipriano said softly and a warm hand reached out for his, Altair took it, squeezing it firmly but did not look at him, instead glaring out into the city.

"I should have killed him," Altair said after several minutes.

"He isn't worth your energy."

"He isn't worth the air he breaths, let alone my energy," Altair growled still angry despite trying to calm down. He'd always had a problem with his anger. It made him act rashly and without thought, and while normally he could redirect his anger into something else or just blot it out all together there were other times when it literally made him see red. Even before he'd become immortal he had been like this. But a hot headed killer an assassin did not make, so he hid it under a carefully constructed mask of ice, pretending to be calm even when he was not. Eventually he had not needed to pretend anymore and it had simply become who he was. Cool and calm at all times and never showed the emotion that sometimes raged just under his skin. Under his robes the Key burned hotly, as if though he would not show his true feelings it would at least for him.

Slowly he finally managed to redirect and stamp out his anger. The Key though continued to burn and finally he had to pull it from against his skin or he feared it would leave a mark. Which was just what he needed; a key shaped mark on his sternum. "You all right now?" Cipriano asked when Altair was finally calmer.

"Yes."

"I have never seen someone so angry," he knew the younger man was looking at him, "Or that you were even capable of it."

"He has been trying my patience for a long time," Altair said softly. "I do not take kindly to those who feel just because they can attack me they can attack those around me."

"So you only did that because I was here?"

Altair finally looked at him, "Yes. And he is a vile little piece of shit for saying what he said."

Cipriano smiled faintly, "He is," he agreed after a moment, "Though I did not realize why so many of our brothers disliked him till now."

"It is not the place of novices to bother with Order politics," Altair said, "Though some assassins barely bother with Order politics," he sighed and Cipriano laughed softly.

"Sounds unpleasant."

"Only when you have to deal with Machiavelli," Altair sighed. "I am glad Ezio is now Mentor and not that bastard."

"Perhaps it will be less stressful then?" he asked hopefully.

"Perhaps," Altair said and this time did hear the door to the roof open and pull his hand from Cipriano's.

"Enu," Francesco called as Altair reaffixed his mask.

"What is it?" he turned around to look at his friend.

"C'mon, the ceremony is going to be starting soon," he had a dumb grin on his face. "And it isn't every day you get to share a Leap with an Auditore."

"You look far to pleased with yourself Vecellio," Cipriano said.

"What? Lady Auditore is joining us for our ascension, why shouldn't I be pleased?" that just made the dark man roll his eyes. "Are you coming too Master Aalam?" he asked.

"Of course I am," Altair said as if annoyed Francesco would even ask such a thing and got to his feet, pulling Cipriano up with him. "I have yet to miss a novice's first Leap since I became a Master Assassin unless I couldn't help it."

"Awesome," Francesco smiled and Altair shoved Cipriano in front of him since the younger man seemed reluctant to go back downstairs. "Ready Enu?" he threw an arm over his shoulders.

"I suppose," Altair could hear his nerves though.

"You suppose?"

"He's just nervous," Altair said with a roll of his eyes, "Needlessly," he added.

"I would hope you'd be excited," Francesco said as he opened the door and started down the stairs, "We've been through so much," for a moment his face became tight, and Altair had no doubt to what he was thinking.

"I am," Cipriano assured him, "but Master Aalam is right… I am a bit nervous," he said sheepishly as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Everyone is," Altair told them.

"Were you?" Francesco challenged.

"Yes," he said calmly.

"I don't believe you."

Altair gave him a look, "What it is with everyone and thinking I am some sort of unfeeling god-like creature?" he asked irritably.

"I dunno; you should ask everyone," Francesco said cheekily.

Altair didn't bother to respond to such a comment and broke away from the two novices and entered the chapel. He was surprised by the amount of white garbed figures in the room, their bodies cast into shadows and silhouette from the flickering lamplight behind their figures. Perhaps because it was because of Claudia, or because it was the remaining novices from the fire at the inn, whatever it was had caused an influx of brothers and sisters to show their faces (so to speak since everyone's face was almost totally hidden by the shadows of their hoods) for the ascension of the novices. It was a hushed atmosphere but not silent and the assassins talked in quiet voices that reminded Altair of a church, only unlike the feeling of guilt and the need to be accepted that came from churches the chapel of the Brotherhood radiated a cool feeling of a band of hunters. Lions in the shade of a Acacia tree was a very prudent metaphor, relaxed but with the same sort of air of danger that at any moment if it took their fancy they could suddenly show their claws and teeth and attack something with prejudice.

He walked among them towards the front of the chapel and felt several sets of eyes on him. He wasn't surprised by this nor did he mind and took a place amid the smaller collection of Master Assassins that always gathered around the dais where the bed of coals sat glowing cheerfully in the tripod stand. Greetings were exchanged amid the group of them when Altair entered their midst and the eyes that had followed him left. As a Master Assassin he commanded attention, as did the rest of them, for there were never more than a handful or two at a time and if for no other reason the presence they radiated was enough to draw eyes from those that knew who and what they were on a deeper level than just merely assassins.

Minutes passed, the hushed talk of the assassins echoed across the vaulted ceiling room before they grew silent when one figure came through the open doors of the chapel. Hoods were bowed in respect as Ezio walked down the center aisle his strides as confident as a big cat on the prowl. In his wake, not getting nearly as much respect as the newly anointed Mentor came Machiavelli and some of the hooded figures even turned away from him as if to simply look upon him was to much respect for the man. Altair himself did not look away, but instead stared and got the distinct pleasure in seeing the man's cheek twitch ever so slightly as he passed the group of Master Assassins and knew that Altair was there, watching him from behind the darkness his beaked hood. Where Altair's blade had drawn blood was slightly enflamed but no longer bleeding, but it was obvious to any who saw the mark that he had not inflicted the wound himself; someone else had. Probably someone with a grudge or great dislike for the man and no doubt several of the assassins in the room were thinking Altair had done it. But neither he nor Machiavelli were likely to ever tell, so it would just stay an idea and a rumor and rarely discussed.

Ezio turned on the dais and faced the assembled members of his Brotherhood. Darkened hoods turned to him, and Altair saw for a moment a waver in his resolve. Altair could feel for him. Once he'd been the one to stand before the Order and see all their hoods look to him and had to face them as Ezio had to do now. Before he'd had Machiavelli to fall upon. But now there was no one. Now there was only himself. But the waver only lasted for less than a second. Then when he made to speak it was like the room held it's breath to better hear him and to himself Altair smiled, and if someone could have seen his eyes they would have seen they were bright with delight.

It seemed the kid was coming along just fine.

* * *

I'll be the first to admit I don't remember really when, why or how Ezio finally became Mentor. I kinda played through that part of the game then stopped playing for about two weeks and had forgotten. I'm pretty sure though that one of his first acts was to make his sister an official member of the Brotherhood though... I'm not so sure though o_o


	19. Trouble

The readers over on the kinkmeme have discovered I've found a new way to spell trouble. At the end of this chapter I'll share it with you.

* * *

It was almost to easy, painfully easy actually. The way Altair liked it. He enjoyed a challenge now and then but that didn't mean he didn't love when things just fell into his lap.

The training yard was empty except for one person who was diligently still practicing despite the coming of night, the sound of the bow's string twanging with each released arrow and the subsequent hit into the hale bale being the only sounds in the entire place. Remarkably they weren't very loud sounds, but they were loud enough for Altair's quietly placed footsteps to go unheard by the archer he was… well, for lack of a better term, stalking. He stood behind him for a few seconds, as the arrow was nocked and arm drawn back. Then just as he was about to release Altair tapped him on the shoulder. The arrow went wide (really wide) and struck the windowless wall when he yelped in surprise.

Cipriano spun quickly, looking annoyed and was met by Altair just grinning at him. He gave his best impression of a scowl, "Why did you do that?"

"Keep you on your toes," Altair said smirking. Cipriano just rolled his eyes, "And because Eugene said you'd been here for two hours," he added.

"Apparently my brothers talk a great deal," Cipriano said trying his best to look annoyed but he didn't seem to have much of a capacity for it.

"You'll find they do that," Altair said.

"You didn't have to interrupt me though."

He grinned, "I think you can live with one bad shot," he said glancing around Cipriano at the hay bale that more like a pincushion with several clusters of tightly grouped arrows. "You have so many good ones," he motioned to it. Cipriano just rolled his eyes, "I also wanted your attention," he said.

"Aalam," his eyes flicked around the training yard, there was only one entrance and very few windows, when Altair stepped closer to him.

"No one's here," and of course he barely resisted when Altair pressed his lips to his, just a bit of a whimper that faded quickly and his hand reached out to fist the material of Altair's shirt. When they parted Altair asked in a quiet voice, "Has Machiavelli said anything to you?"

"No, why would he?" he just seemed confused by the question though of course he hadn't forgotten what had happened a few days prior on the roof.

"Good," was all Altair said.

"Would he?" he asked.

"If he hasn't then it isn't something you should worry over. But he is not exactly the most… _forgiving_ of sorts."

"I think you scared him to well," Cipriano smiled, "I haven't seen him around much, and when he does show his face he's with Ezio, or La Volpe," he shrugged.

"A wise choice," and Altair kissed him again.

"I didn't think someone like Machiavelli could get scared," he said thoughtfully.

Altair snorted, "You'll find that most people would rather not be my enemy. They tend to end up dead."

"Something I shall keep in mind," and one of his calloused fingers ran down the side Altair's neck.

"Even if it isn't something you have to worry about," Altair smirked and the hand on his neck pulled him close.

"Maybe we should take this somewhere else?" Cipriano suggested.

"I thought you were practicing," Altair teased.

Cipriano looked down at the bow still clasped in his hand, "I've practiced enough I suppose," he said. "A novice can come clean this up later," he added looking at the arrows in the hay bale.

Altair chuckled and threw an arm around the dark man's shoulders, "An assassin only a few days and already using the novices to your benefit," he said leading the way out of the training ground.

"I had to do menial tasks, I don't see why I shouldn't make them as well," Cipriano said tucking himself more firmly under Altair's arm though it simply looked comradic in fashion.

"Very true, very true," Altair nodded. "Do you know anyone who can ride a horse well?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"I have a difficult target. I need some sort of distraction to help my blade find his vitals. He has a passion for horse racing, I figured I could go with that," Altair said and raised a hand to an assassin who greeted him.

"You could just use the fairer sex; they seem to be very distracting when they want to," Cipriano said.

"And who would you suggest?" Cipriano opened his mouth to reply, "A courtesan wouldn't work. The man publicly loathes brothels," he added, Cipriano closed his mouth.

But only for a moment, "Perhaps one of our sisters?"

"He's on the lookout for us. Sadly he'd notice if it was a sister, I don't know if you've noticed, but some of them hold themselves like men," he whispered that part into Cipriano's ear making the younger man laugh.

"Not all though," he said.

"No, not all," Altair agreed. They were about to continue, and Altair could see his door from here when suddenly someone collided with his side.

"OhmygoodnessIamsosorrysir!" came the blather as a pile of documents went flying from her hands after the collision with Altair. She herself had been knocked back from the incident and Altair probably would have been as well had Cipriano not grounded him so great had been the force. She'd been practically running down the hall apparently.

"It's all right," Altair said and knelt to help her pick up the papers she was scrambling to reassemble into proper order, "But do watch where you're going next time," he added.

"Yes, I really am sorry-" she cut off when she finally got a good look at him. "_Mio dio_," she breathed, "You're him!"

"Excuse me?" Altair handed her the documents which she shuffled away into proper place still not taking her eyes off him.

"You're the one who saved my life," she said.

"Uh-" Altair had no idea what she was talking about.

"Aalam, who is this?" Cipriano asked and Altair looked up at him helplessly; he seriously didn't have a clue.

"I'm Venitia," she supplied.

"Why do you say I saved you?" Altair asked slowly.

"You killed that priest," she said. It dawned on Altair then. She wasn't familiar but now he knew why she recognized him. She'd been the woman Altair had saved from Ristoro.

"Ah yes, I remember that now," he said. He also remembered leaving her in the cloisters when Dante had finished off the guards. What the hell was she doing on Tiber Island? A mystery for another day that was for sure, if he ever wanted to go back to it at least. He got to his feet once she'd finally gotten her last papers picked up and stood. She wasn't unattractive, her black hair done up in a crown at the top of her head and had earnest brown eyes. His own eyes scanned her quickly then looked away dismissively, she wasn't of interest to him. "Do be careful where you're going Venitia," he reminded her, "Now if you'll excuse me," and he moved away because Cipriano was tugging on his cape. _"You are so impatient_," Altair hissed at him in Arabic.

"And?" the younger man leaned against the wall as Altair opened the door to his private rooms, a luxury only afforded to Master Assassins and the Mentor, everyone else bunked up in twos or (in the case of novices) fours. He slipped inside and Altair had only time to close the door before anxious lips were on his and he wrapped an arm around his waist, the other locking the door blindly behind him. "I don't like to wait."

Altair smirked, "What a disrespecting mouth you have Cipriano," Altair grabbed his chin. "Lets find a better use for it then mouthing off hmm?" The other assassin just smiled cheekily.

—

Altair's eyes scanned the headquarters. Where the hell was that kid? Honestly, it was bad form to never show face at your own damn house. He frowned under his mask before perking up when Ezio came from one of the side halls, Machiavelli walked next to him but Altair ignored him as he slipped up onto Ezio's other side. "Mentor," he dipped his head at Ezio, "Machiavelli," he added as if the man was an afterthought. The scholar just scowled, though only when Ezio had turned away from him, directing his attention now on Altair.

"Hello Aalam," he said, "What can I do for you?" though he shot Altair a look saying he didn't like being referred to as the Mentor.

"I was wondering if you could help me with something," Altair said calmly.

"Oh course my friend, of course," Ezio smiled slightly and three assassins walked passed them, murmuring soft hellos to Ezio and Altair but ignoring Machiavelli like he was a wall. Now that the man no longer had real power to punish them several assassins that had served under both Mario and Machiavelli were expressing their feelings freely to the former Mentor.

"If you'll excuse me Ezio," Machiavelli piped in, "I do not wish to interrupt," Ezio nodded lazily and the older man slunk away.

'_Like a dog with his tail between his legs,'_ Altair thought and grinned privately to himself when Machiavelli cast a slightly worried eye back, as if to assure himself Altair wasn't following, '_a scared dog at that.'_

"What did you wish to talk about Aalam?" Ezio asked.

Altair motioned for them to keep walking to wherever Ezio had been heading before speaking. "I am need of a horseman to help with the assassination of one of the targets Lucrezia provided us with," he said.

"What are you planning?"

"A simple race, to lose of course, for the man's ego is only as large as his paranoia of a knife in his back," he easily.

"Why do you not simply run the race?"

"Ah, a conductor never plays an instrument Ezio, but he's key to see that the piece runs smoothly. And I cannot be in two places at once, playing the humble loser and the killer at the same time."

"Ha, that is for sure," Ezio said in a certain way that made Altair roll his eyes, since Ezio was insinuating that Altair didn't know how to be humble. Yes, right.

"Regardless. Would you suggest someone to me? I do not ride much," mainly because horses seemed to know there was something not quite right about him and didn't like to be ridden. "They must also be able to hold their own in the event that it turns bad, which could happen since the target never goes anywhere without a squad of guards anymore," he sighed.

"Hmmm," Ezio rubbed his chin, his gloved hand scraping across his short, perfectly maintained beard. "I know Lucien is a good rider," he said after a moment, "He's often in the stables when not with, as you call them, my passe," he sent Altair an amused look.

"I will speak with him," Altair nodded, it would be good to have another Master Assassin on this hunt, for Donato wasn't an idiot, or to be taken for a fool and if it got rough it would be helpful to have another sharp, practiced blade to cut down the guards.

"Is that all?" Ezio asked, they'd arrived at the sewer entrance within the building. The entrance was sealed over in wood to keep the smell from the rest of the building.

"Not quite. I also need a more… harmless accomplice. Someone to the likings of a paranoid captain of the guard," he said. "I figured you would know all the pretty faces that work for the Brotherhood," he got a playful shove for that one and Ezio tried to at least look annoyed but failed a bit since he was also fighting a smile.

"I will see to that," Ezio rolled his eyes.

"Thank you Ezio," Altair said, "I will go find Lucien," Ezio nodded before turning to the sewer popping open the wooden door and climbing down the ladder. Altair held it open for him till he heard flint being struck and the torch that was left there flared before letting it drop closed again.

—

Lucien knew the plan, it was a bit of a complicated plan (Altair hated complicated plans) but it was needed in order to get Donato to lower his guard. They both agreed it was a good plan too and that is it worked the way it should could see no other result then Altair's blade ending the captain's life. So at least there was that.

Their two helpers knew part of the plan. They knew their role in it, but not to what purpose they were doing it. Of course they figured it was to help an assassin with their kill but he'd heard them talking between each other that they hadn't an idea how what they were doing would help. Ezio at least had lived up to his word and their two helpers were lovely young women and fit their role perfectly as Lucien's sisters.

Earlier Altair had sent a group of younger novices to go find Donato, for there was no plan without the guest of honor after all. They'd found him in the antiquity district a group of guards surrounding him. It was to be expected since Donato hadn't gone anywhere without a wall of steel and armor to protect him after the death of Teodor Viscardi. He was far more paranoid than the officer had ever been. But Altair knew he was as vain as a peacock even now and still took on any challenge put upon him.

Altair was sitting at the top of one of the old Roman columns, watching as Donato came into view over the rise along with his posse and narrowed his eyes. It was a group of horsemen. Horsemen! Fuck. This may turn sticky.

Down below the two women Venitia and Nicia waited just out of sight and he whistled, drawing their attention up from their chatter. He looked down and saw their faces turned up, motioning to keep an eye to the road. They nodded and made good to their task, moving out of the shadow of Altair's columns and proceeded down the road as the guardsmen came towards them.

At the exact moment the women tried to cross the road, they ended up getting caught just in front of the horses and Altair could hear their whinnies of surprise even from a distance. He couldn't hear what was being heard except for some any tones from the guards before, like Altair knew he would, Donato barked at them to stop and slid off his horse, approaching the two women.

That was as good as a cue as any and Altair signaled Lucien who was waiting just out of sight behind an old wall. His eyes followed his fellow Master, dressed as a civilian, as he kicked his horse into a quick, hard, gallop as if following someone only to quickly have to pull up short at the group of guards. There were more angry voices, and this time Altair heard Lucien's voice along with them.

He leaned over his knees, propping his elbows up on his knees and held his chin in nine fingered hands. He could do nothing till the trap had been laid and it would fall apart unless Lucien could follow through with his half of the plan. It all relied on Donato's ego being greater than his paranoia. Which was in truth probably so he didn't worry to much. He just hoped Lucien didn't piss him and his group of guards off. That was really the last thing any of them wanted and from speaking with Lucien for a bit he knew the Master Assassin had a rather big mouth. Meaning that it was a very clear possibility he would indeed piss them off.

Thankfully though he didn't and Altair watched as the rest of his plan obviously fell into place, because now there were no angry tones and Altair could no longer hear them at this distance unless he decided to use the Key to heighten his sense of hearing. But he didn't need to, because he knew what was happening. Lucien was proposing a challenge, a race, one he'd assured Altair he would lose without appearing to. After some more conversation the group started to head towards Altair who changed his position on the top of the lentil so he couldn't be seen till they were all in the general area. There was the rustling of leather and metal along with the shifting of hooves as the guards dismounted and he could hear Nicia and Venitia flirting with the guards and Donato only until Lucien snapped at them to mind their tongues, which just got giggles. Altair grinned to himself, Lucien played the protective older brother role well it seemed.

The circumstances for the challenge were agreed upon by the assassin and captain before they trotted out to road. But Altair wasn't looking at them, from his prone position he cast his eyes downward to the girls, both with overflowing baskets of flowers and fruit, as if they had just come from market. Now that Lucien was out of earshot they were once again flirting and the guards were eating it up, enjoying the attention from two lovely girls who's brother their captain was about to embarrass. He drummed the fingers of one hand along the top of the marble lentil and watched first Nicia the Venitia start offering some of the fruit to the guards, saying they must be tired after so long in the sun with all that armor and won't you please try this, no I insist. The ones who wouldn't take the fruit were offered flowers and a charming smile which the poor men were hard pressed to resist.

Looking up Altair could no longer see the two horsemen. They'd left a time ago and were probably only about half way through the course that had been decided upon. Now all he had to do was wait, since really this plan was working exactly as Altair knew it would, as most of his plans did. His eyes drifted down again to the two flirts and the guards, who were now much more relaxed then before, though obviously not _to_ relaxed.

Soon after they heard the sound of hooves striking the ground and the group moved to the road to see what Altair could see from the air. Two horsemen, driving their horses hard, though one clearly in the lead. He only moved his eyes as they barreled past the finish before drawing their horses to a slow halt and guided them back towards the group. The guards were boisterous and the girls teased Lucien for having a big mouth since he couldn't live up to his boasts. As the guards went to get their horses Venitia offered Donato an apple, he refused and Altair could hear him say something about needing to lose weight which made him chuckle softly. Not disheartened at all Nicia, probably more charming then the other woman, offered the captain a flower. This he took and Altair smiled with satisfaction when he pressed it to his nose and inhaled.

After a bit more talk the captain and his squad moved off. Altair came down from the top of the column and met Lucien and the girls on the ground. "Very well done," he said.

"So I assume it was to satisfaction brother?" Lucien said.

"It was even more perfect then in my head," he said and Lucien laughed. "Burn the baskets and their contents," he told the girls. "Wash your hands and face thoroughly and throw out your clothes."

"Why?" Venitia asked.

"Because I do not want either of you lovely ladies to come down with the same ailment as those poor guards," he said simply and it was then they realized the intent of the flowers and fruit they carried; they were poisoned. With this knowledge they nodded quickly showing they would do as ordered.

"We won't… die will we, if we don't?" Nicia asked worriedly.

"No, but you will get very sick, rash terribly and be unable to leave the lavatory for at least a day," Altair said and watched then pale, "That is once you've regained your consciences," he added.

"That is a nasty poison you found Aalam," Lucien said with a slight smirk.

"I asked that leech loving doctor for it; he was all to happy to provide," Altair said and not got to watch Lucien pale, apparently he'd paid a visit to the doctor. "Now then if you'll excuse me, I have yet to finish this," he dipped his head at the three of them before leaving to follow after Donato and his men.

They were easy to follow because of their noise and their size, though Altair kept well in the distance so he wasn't spotted. Then of course the first guard dropped, slumping in his saddle before falling off his horse about half an hour later. The captain called the party to halt to see what was the matter but they couldn't wake their comrade. Then more guards started to fall, simply slumping down to the ground with little warning and falling asleep. At this Altair moved closer and could hear the panic rising in their voices. Something was wrong but none of them knew what, and of course they didn't think to accuse the ones they had just been with.

The bodies were checked for needles and pins, even knives, for they knew that was how assassins dropped their prey from far away. Or they did if they were trying to kill someone with as little bloodshed as possible. But there was nothing, and they still breathed at that. So it was not as if they were dead. But very quickly all the soldiers had swayed and fallen, leaving just Donato, alone out in the open and slowly starting to freak.

Altair didn't rush, in fact he took his time, Donato wasn't even looking at him either, but rather trying to wake his men and obviously fighting the effects himself. "Is there something wrong sir?" Altair asked when he stood over Donato.

The captain looked up quickly ready to send him to get help no doubt, then he saw who it was and fell back in fear. "You!" he cried. "What did you do to my men?" he demanded and tried to stand, his legs didn't hold him though. The poison he'd been afflicted with didn't work the same as the one he'd spiked the fruit with, it was a slower poison, which was why the guards had fallen at different intervals.

"Nothing, don't worry, they'll wake up in a few hours," he stepped over an unsconscwience body of a guard, "Unfortunately you won't be so lucky," he pulled out a throwing knife. It was comfortable and weighted in his hand.

"No!" and he tried to draw his sword, but his hands were clumsy and failed at their task. Altair was right in front of him now and without pause or even remorse slashed his knife across Donato's throat. His eyes widened to the point of bulging as his neck opened and blood poured from it staining his shiny silver chest plate with blood. He slumped over to his side trying to cough but blood just splattered out of his throat and then he fell.

Altair crouched over him, wiped his bloodied knife on the fallen man's sleeve before shutting his eyes, murmuring "Requiescat in pace," before drawing a pigeon feather through his bloody neck and standing. His task was done and in a few hours all these men would wake up and wonder how it was their leader had died from an assassin and they were not among his number.

—

The hideout was mainly dark when Altair returned to Tiber island. It was late, far later than he'd actually planned to return back home. But the contact he'd met with did not like to deal with the Brotherhood in the light and much like the people he gave information to preferred the shadows and darkness of the night to do dealings. So Altair had gone out and met with him that night, it was that or nothing. But the time he'd gone out had been late and now he returned even later to the shadow swathed hideout.

As soon as he entered he noticed the lamp at the table where Ezio always did his work to send novices out to missions across Italy and the known world, to as far away as Russia and Constantinople. No one but Ezio was permitted near his table without his permission or his presence unless you happened to be a friend. But Ezio was not the one at the table that night, but someone else who was leaning over the table with its spread contracts looking very out place there. Quietly, not even his gear's normally soft jangling or his boot's falls on the stone floor he walked over to them. He was a ghost and the person didn't even notice them even when he stood right behind them to peer over their shoulder. They were writing quickly in cypher, eyes and hands drifting across the important documents while transcribing the important information onto a filling piece of paper. Lightning fast he grabbed their hand pulling it back and as they tried to scream he clapped his other hand over their mouth.

"Now what do we have here?" he growled into their ear. Muffled words came from around his fingers, almost sounding desperate. "You should know better than to betray the brotherhood," he added. Indeed, everyone who was a member or worked for them knew the price of betrayal; death. There was little way around it unless you could hide, get a stronger patron (to which there were close to none) or the Mentor gave their say in that they were free to go. "What is this?" he grabbed the paper she'd been writing on and looked it over. It was in a cypher he was familiar with, a Borgia cypher that they'd decoded when Rodrigo had taken the papalcy. As of yet the Templars didn't know they'd decoded it and had yet to change it. "Borgia bought bitch," he snarled angrily before crumpling the paper up and threw it into the lamp house where it caught fire and burned to ashes.

"Please, I can explain," she stammered since he'd taken his hand from her traitorous mouth.

"I would love to see you try. You look much like a spy to me," and allowed enough slack around her wrist so she could turn and his brows went up, it was Venitia, only part of him was surprised. Since the fall of Masyaf when the Order no longer protected its workers within its own walls he always knew that the common men who worked for them could be traitors.

"Oh, it's you," she didn't seem so afraid then.

But her calm was short lived as he unsheathed his hidden blade and pressed it against her throat, making it precarious even to swallow. "Start talking girl," he hissed.

"You can't kill me," she cried desperately.

"Give me one good reason."

"If I don't come home tonight I've instructed a friend of mine to give a letter to my contact," she said swiftly and Altair narrowed his eyes at her irritated. "It contains a code for one of the more complicated Order cyphers, and a list of contacts you use," that was all he needed to know. If the Borgia got their cypher or their contacts they'd have to start back over at square one and would be set back months if not longer. He swore softly, cutting off more of her rambling.

"How do I know you aren't lying?" he growled.

"You don't," she swallowed, shying away from the blade at her throat. "But if you're wrong and I'm telling the truth you're just damning yourself," she said quickly. Damnit. This was true.

"I bet you want me to let you go don't you?" Altair growled, she nodded as best she could with a knife at her throat. He couldn't risk it, it was to great a gamble and if he bet wrong the entire order could be at risk. While Altair was willing to risk himself for a cause he would never put the cause itself at risk. The Order was bigger than him, than anyone and to selfishly put it in jeopardy was something he couldn't do. After a moment of silence he pulled his blade from her throat and she breathed a sigh of relief.

He stared at her now, looking at her in his second sight to try and discern if she was truly an enemy. He was shocked to see that while she was definitely not blue nor was she red, or any other color for that matter. She was simply gray, the same color all those without intent towards him. She was not a friend or an enemy, she simply... well, was, as odd as that was. "I won't kill you," he told her, "but tell me why I should let you go and not drag you before Ezio?"

Now that she no longer had a blade at her neck she regained some of her former confidence, standing up straiter then before and she did not seem so afraid of the assassin who appeared more shadow than man in front of her, lit only by her flickering lamp. "I'll stop giving information to Cesare," she said.

"If I let you go?" he demanded, no way of could be so easy.

"Let me go I'll burn the letter I told you about," she said softly, "I'll stop feeding information to Cesare for something else."

"And just what would be that something else?" he growled. She gnawed her lower lip shyly, now suddenly seemingly to have lost her wit, "Speak now and I will see what I can do to get your terms," he jerked her arm to make her speak.

"Oh, I have no doubt you could easily give me what I want Aalam," she said and he decided he didn't want to know where, why, or how she'd come upon his name.

"Then say it woman before I lose my patience," he snapped, because it was indeed running short now.

"Just one... little... thing," as she spoke her free hand reached up to his face. He didn't move, but kept a firm grip on her other hand and watched her intently like the hawk he was named after. Slowly, as if afraid he'd suddenly hurt her (a very easy possibility) she pushed back his hood, his golden eyes caught the lamp light and a light brush of fingers ran along the side of his face over his concealing mask, "just you," she smiled then, her white teeth catching the light.

His eyes narrowed and there was no hiding it behind his hood now. Her hand froze in touching his face at the sight of it, startled more than likely by the cold look on Altair's face. "You would have me in payment of your silence?" he growled.

"Yes," she breathed. Altair had met a lot of crazy in his life, more then he cared to remember, this was up there with the craziest. Of course nor was it an isolated event since this had happened to him before. Someone became infatuated with him and to ensure he would be there's they required cooperation to stop from doing something that would cause am upheaval to normal life. This though was the first time of had happened with a Templar spy.

"Fine," he said with barely a thought, already thinking about how to turn this situation to his advantage. Things like this never lasted more than a few weeks before Altair put a stop to it by his blade when the previous looming threat had been neutralized, he was not afraid or intimidated by this woman or her supposed threat at all.

"Really?" she obviously hadn't expected it to be that easy.

"And for it you will not breath a word of the going-ons of the Brotherhood to anyone. If I found you have then letter or no I will kill you," he hissed.

"I see no problem with this," she was still smiling, fingers toying at his mask. "neither of us shall talk and we both get what we want," oh yeah, definitely crazy. "Now will you let me go?" she gave a light tug at her arm whose wrist was still tightly gripped by Altair. He let her go though she did not step away, but forward taking his face in both hands when he realized something. He was going to have to keep this and her far from Cipriano. Surprisingly the archer was prone to random bouts of jealousy and Altair couldn't even begin to image what he'd do to poor Venitia if he found out she had her hands on Altair. Needless to say it would not be good.

Her fingers dragged away his mask and he let her his golden eyes boring into her though she did not seem to notice, or if she did she did not show it. A thumb ran along the scar on his lips as eyes and fingers took in his face in every detail she could by the flickering lamp light. "You'd do anything for this Order wouldn't you," it wasn't a question but he nodded anyways, "A woman would be jealous of such devotion," again her fingers went back to his scar as they inspected his face, she seemed fascinated by it, like a moth to a candle. "kiss me and our agreement will be done," she said, smiling slyly.

Altair didn't even hesitate and pressed his lips firmly against her's. The hands on his face migrated up to clasp him by the back of the neck and touch his hair. To him it was nothing, a sealing of a pact and that was all for there was no feeling behind his kiss besides his duty to the brotherhood. That unwavering, unadulterated devotion to the Order that had kept him from straying to far from it all these years and kept him from seriously looking for a way to end his own life. As long as the Order of Assassins lived so would Altair, and he would so whatever he had to to keep it safe, even play along with a crazy woman.

He regretted nothing.

* * *

Trouble. You spell it V-e-n-i-t-i-a.


	20. Relieving the Strain

Dear Reader, if you're reading this then I love you. You're the reason I write and the reason I keep updating. Because of this I've updated all my stories today, including ones I haven't looked at in a while. So if you've been waiting for new chapters, they're here. I hope you all enjoy them.

This is kind of a filler chapter between the last one and the next one. At the same time nothing in here can be left out since it's important to the plot as a whole. We're visiting some old characters and more La Volpe!

* * *

Altair didn't knock before entering Ezio's office, but merely walked in when he knew he'd heard his voice. The office of the Mentor was rarely used now unlike during Machiavelli's claim to it when he'd rarely left it. Ezio preferred to work where people could see him and speak with him, but he still used the office when he needed to conduct more delicate affairs or when he gave missions to master assassins. When he entered Ezio was not the only one within, but also a thief, two of Altair's fellow masters and La Volpe. The speaker stopped mid-sentence when Altair entered unannounced.

"Ezio, I need to speak with you," Altair said.

"Aalam, you can't just-" then he saw the tenseness in Altair's shoulders and the way his hand, his left one, twitched, visible even under his red and black cape and knew that something was wrong. "Leave us," he waved the others away. No one protested out loud, though it was clear they were confused and damn Altair for interrupting.

"Stay La Volpe," Altair added when the purple eyed man made to leave.

"What's the matter Aalam?" he asked curiously.

Altair waited until the door had closed and looked at the one window to ensure that indeed it was closed before saying, "We have a Templar spy in our midst," he said

"What!"

"Those are serious accusations Aalam," La Volpe said giving Altair a hard look.

"I know, and they are true at that," he said seriously.

"How do you know? Who is it?" Ezio asked looking only a second from flying out of his chair.

"I saw them last night when I came back from meeting with a contact. They were going through your desk Ezio," he sent Ezio a look. He'd warned the other man to get his act together and keep important articles in a locked box. "And I will tell you who they are once we've decided what to do with them."

"Those that betray the Brotherhood are killed," Ezio growled. Altair told them about the letter and the pact that both would he silent for her price to which the two men became pensive. "But if they are not dead how did you secure their silence?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "just know that I did and as long as I hold true to my side of the bargain she will not breath a word of anything she knows, if she does I will kill her myself and she does not want that," understatement if there ever was one. "We need a way to neutralize her threat to us though or we will be left to her whims."

"Her friend with the letter must be eliminated, as must the letter. If we can get those two then there will be no threat," La Volpe said. "Once we've determined if that is true and dealt with it then we can strike at this little spy," he was frowning deeply.

"Yes," Ezio agreed nodding. "How do you think we should accomplish this?"

"Someone must know of her whereabouts, where she lives, who she makes friends with. Once we have that he can find out the rest," La Volpe said calmly. "What is this spy's name Aalam?"

"Venitia Costello," he said.

"Venitia?" Ezio asked, then he put his hand to his forehead, "Fuck," he muttered.

"What is it Ezio?" Altair asked.

"She is one of our archivers assistants," he said now also frowning. "Everything goes through him, once it's been dealt with at least. He puts it into a catalog system so we can keep track of who was where when and also keeps the list of active of members and missions up to date. Though of course there is a delay between anything happening, it coming through here and him getting it."

"So she gets all the old news?"

"Apparently her master wasn't happy with that," Altair growled, "She was looking for something on your desk Ezio, and was writing in Borgia code," Ezio's eyes narrowed.

"Someone will have to track her," Ezio said, the other two nodded in agreement. "Our assassins would be to obvious, she knows what to look for if one of us was following her-

"I will have my men track her down," La Volpe nodded once, "As for that friend and that letter-

"If you're able to find who it is or find it; destroy it," Ezio said firmly, "They compromise the Brotherhood, which cannot be allowed to happen, we've sacrificed to much here as is," he didn't look pleased by this news and Altair didn't doubt he was busy thinking of all his personal failures in Rome or that had led up to coming here. But such was Ezio's way and Altair didn't intervene with his agitation. "Make sure they aren't seen, and if they are, lay off, I don't want to risk such a letter getting into Cesare's hands."

"Of course Ezio," La Volpe dipped his head.

"That is all."

Altair bowed his head and left, La Volpe however stayed, but not for long however and Altair had only made it to the exit of the hideout before the thief caught up with him. "Aalam," he said and Altair knew the sienna dressed man was looking at him from the corner of his eye.

"La Volpe, what can I do for you?" he pushed the door open. He needed to scout the place of his next kill, just so he wasn't here on the Island where Venitia could find him since she'd already done so today and it had taken him twenty minutes to shake her off. That had been the point he'd gone to see Ezio.

"What did you do to ensure silence?" La Volpe asked him easily sounding at ease as though they talked about matters other than the compromise of the Brotherhood.

"Does it matter?" Altair shot back with a hiss.

"It could help my men in learning about the target," he said.

"Trust me, it wouldn't," Altair said, "You should know that she's not afraid of the consequences though. She thinks she has it all planned out on how to get what she wants."

"And does she?"

"As of now, yes, she does," he grumbled, "She's a cobra La Volpe, and at the moment we're all a bunch of mice."

"Then we should bring in a mongoose," was all La Volpe said.

Altair reached up to rub between his eyes. Though he'd dealt with these complications before they were never exactly easy to deal with and always had to be handled with care so they didn't explode in your face like a firework. Altair didn't like to live an overly complicated life, so he kept his lies simple and easy to remember while still being believable and kept most of his comments and abilities to himself to not draw attention, he even made his plans as simple as possible. But there were always unforeseen complications that he could do nothing about, this was one such complication, Giovanni Borgia was another one of those. They just made his life unnecessarily complicated and it gave him a headache.

"That is the hope," Altair sighed.

"We'll set this strait, you need not worry."

"I know. It's having to cope with all the time between now and then that's going to be just _wonderful_," he said with such scathing sarcasm La Volpe chuckled. Hmm, he sounded like Malik there, it wasn't surprising, he always did when he was overly sarcastic. "If you'll excuse me now," Altair said, "I need to prepare for my next mission." La Volpe just nodded, "Safety and peace La Volpe," he said taking the northern bridge off Tiber Island to go hunt down the location where the next man on his List would breath his last breath.

—

As with the first time Altair had come to the forge the heat was thick and made him sweat almost immediately upon entering. The back door was open and Altair could hear the sound of hammers on metal and the hiss if pumping billows. Once again there was one of Oberlin's apprentices behind the counter. this one though was younger than the first one Altair had had to deal with.

Altair walked right up to the counter where the apprentice smith. "Can I help you, sir?" asked the young man.

"My name is Perrichi, I'm here to have words with your master, he's expecting me," Altair said adjusting the fit of his wide brimmed hat do he could see the young man but his eyes were hidden.

"I will get him," the apprentice nodded quickly and vanished into the back room where the sound of some of the hammering stopped and quickly the sound of footsteps followed. Oberlin dragged himself from the back room his face sweating though he quickly wiped it away and offered Altair a smile.

"Perrichi, my good sir, what brings you here?" Oberlin asked.

"I'm here for what I commissioned Oberlin, I hope my request sees you well able to deliver," he said easily.

"Ah, hmm... yes right your commission," Oberlin said.

"It is done is it not?" Altair asked when Oberlin seemed to falter.

"It is... but I feel as if it isn't a fair trade for what you offer," he lamented.

"May I see?" Altair asked curiously.

"If you wish," and Oberlin sent the apprentice into the back to return with a box containing Altair's commission.

Altair 'hmmmed' as he took out the chest plate. It was light in his hands as he knew it should be and did not bend when he tried to bend it and was intricate in the way that the vambrace Altair had shown Oberlin was intricate. He rapped his knuckles on the left breast and winced. It sounded wrong and mal forged, Oberlin detected the wince. "My," Altair said blinking in disapproval. He knew his way around armor intimately and this armor was flawed on a deep level. The ring of the metal, a ring that was to sharp for what it should have sounded, which was supposed to be a much deeper sound, meant that there were probably dozens of tiny flaws in the armor and under enough pressure would shatter which with armor couldn't happen. "You were not kidding," Altair said to the smith.

"I apologize," Oberlin lamented. "The only piece I completed to satisfaction was the pauldron," he frowned and Altair quickly inspected it. True to words the pauldron was well done and when Altair struck it it rang low as it should and he didn't doubt it was on par with his own armor. "I admit I've never worked with metal such as this and it was like I had to learn to rework steel," he sounded very apologetic about it as well about the whole thing.

"A shame," Altair said frowning. "I cannot give you the formula for such sub par work," he fixed the smith with a stern look and Oberlin didn't argue. "But you've shown you can indeed work with it now though," he motioned with the pauldron. "I will take these with me and will send a few ingots tomorrow for you to reforge these articles."

"I appreciate your understanding Perrichi," Oberlin bowed his head humbly.

"I will be keeping a closer eye on my investment this time around so I do not waste more material which is not easy to create in the first place."

"I understand," Oberlin said soberly.

"Good," Altair nodded and tucked the box of armor under his arm. "I'll be back in a week to check on your progress," it was clear he was displeased and Altair wanted the smith to know it. Men like him did not take failure lightly and the rest of the set Oberlin would forge would be as perfect as he could make them and rival the smiths of Masyaf which had crafted sets of armor and weapons so fine they would have made other smiths weep. It was expected after all, the best fighters in the land needed to best equipment the technology could offer to stay ahead of their enemies.

"I will anticipate your return," Oberlin rumbled. Altair tipped his hat and box secure he left the smithery. He was going to have to melt the armor back down into ingots since in its current state all but the pauldron were useless. It stung slightly to have to use the same smith as Cesare, but the one on Tiber Island wasn't skilled enough to work this type of steel, nor did he feel any smiths in Rome up to it either. Monteriggioni had had a competent smith, one Altair would have trusted to do the task properly. Of course that hadn't been needed then since Ezio was wearing his own old armor which he'd _lost_ during the attack on the villa. Altair rolled his eyes thinking Ezio should take better care of other people's things, especially when they were older then that damn villa they were housed in. It was only because of that that he even had to deal with Oberlin other then ending his life. Of course that brat couldn't get it unless the smith lived up to his words, or the right time came.

Altair would know when he was ready and not before then so he didn't worry about things conflicting. He'd actually thought for a moment that him taking control of the Brotherhood would be that point. It hadn't been as he still shown the same color he always did, the one different spark in a sea of blue within the brotherhood.

He knew though that in time that that would change. —

Altair ran a hand through his short hair as he sat up in bed. There was an unwelcome warmth in his bed, a delicate arm wrapped around his waist as if she really could stop him from leaving. Not that he'd leave her alone in _his_ room, of course not, that was asking for trouble, but she didn't make him do anything he'd resigned himself to do already. He slipped easily from her grasp and she muttered into her pillow rolling over as Altair poured water into a basin to wash himself without having to draw a full bath.

This wasn't the first time he'd woken up with a _woman_ in his bed lately. Truth be told he didn't appreciate it. Sure he'd slept with women before but there was always something disgusting and annoying about not having say in who else shared your bed at night. Altair also didn't get simple gratification from just the act of sex like mortals did. Sex was physical, so was killing people. To Altair killing was emotionless, as were many otherwise strictly physical actions like fighting or fucking. Altair just did them. He didn't think while he did them, they were muscle memory at this point and held no real thrill anymore.

It was why he didn't like brothels. It was almost a chore to simply fuck, which was all he and Venitia did. It was why he always had a _lover._ That was lover, meaning that in the way he could he did love them, limited though that emotion was in his life of detachment to those around him. It was the only way he could get enjoyment out of anything, if he could connect an emotion to it. So he just got what he did with Venitia over with as quickly as possible without to much emotion involved and then it just became a reaction to her forwardness to get into his bed.

Once he'd cleaned and pulled on a pair of pants he walked back over to the bed. "Time to get up Venitia," he said shaking her, though not to roughly, to rouse her from her lazy dozing.

"I don't wanna," she mumbled smartly. Altair rolled his eyes, "Just go do what you do, I'll be gone in an hour."

Altair shook his head. Over his dead body was he leaving this woman in his room alone. He knew she was a snoop and though everything he wrote was in Arabic (and most of it in code beside that) he didn't trust her not to steal one of his personal books and try and decipher it. "I think not. Now get up," and he yanked the blanket from her naked body. She sat up with a yelp of protest, glaring at him. "Get yourself together and be gone. I have work to accomplish without you hoarding my time," he told her.

She made a face at him and pushed herself off the bed. He watched her quickly pull on her clothes from the night before but said nothing nor did he evenly seem interested in her when she dressed doing her best to entice him with subtle body language. "Since I am not the one to occupy your time today, what is?" she asked slowly tying the front of her bodice up to better show off her breasts and try and get some sort of rise out of him. She frowned when it didn't work.

"That is for me to know, and you to not," he tapped her on the nose when she came close, fully dressed once more, "Now leave," he said firmly. She gave him a bit of a sour look but did leave and it was only when she was gone did Altair finish dressing himself in all the layers and regalia of his status as a Master Assassin before pulling his beaked hood up to shadow his eyes so that with his red mask his face was unreadable.

—

Altair was grateful for the sanctuary that his room brought him when he finally slipped inside. It was late, to late for even Venitia to bother him. He'd met with that contact again, the one that only came out to make deals in the dark, to gain further information about his target. Sadly the last opportunity to catch him in a net had already slipped Altair by. He'd been to busy with handling Venitia and his duties as a Borgia babysitter on top of keeping Cipriano _far away_ from the former reason to move fast enough to kill him that time. He wanted to relax now and try to unwind all the strain that was turning his back and shoulders into a tight knot of discomfort.

The shutter of his window was open just slightly, enough for a sliver of moonlight to slip through the frame and strike the ground and give him enough light to see by to light a candle. His fingers were a bit clumsy for a moment with the tinder before it struck and light arced across his room. He lit two more on his desk so the room was now much more clearly lit and was starting to take his clothing off as he glanced over at his bed imagining how comfortable it was.

He actually jumped, startled (a hard thing to do actually, it was probably only because he was tired), when he found someone sitting on his bed. They were sitting cross-legged and their face was lost in the shadow of their white hood and the semi darkness of the three candles. Not that Altair didn't know _exactly_ who it was though. He'd sort of… been ignoring him for almost a week. He tried to not let his momentary surprise show, "Cipriano… What are you doing here?" he asked curiously and took his hands away from his half undone pauldron to look at him inquisitively.

"You gave me a key, remember?"

"I do. But what are you doing _here_ at such a late hour?" Altair said.

Cipriano didn't reply at first and simply unfolded himself from his seated position and came over to Altair moving with the natural silence all assassins had. "You've been ignoring me," he said in such a way it could have been pouting or complaining.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Altair said. "I have just been busy, that is all," he shrugged helplessly and looked away to finish taking off his pauldron and cape which fell away in a sigh of fabric.

Cipriano reached out, batting away Altair's hands to slowly undo the ties of his shirt before saying, "I've also heard some rumors from our brothers," he said.

"Oh?" Altair cursed to himself. Of course. Rumors started by assassins always held more than a grain of truth to them, especially if they started with brothers, for they knew not to chatter on idle speculation, they enjoyed gossip that very well could be true.

"Yes, apparently some woman has managed to catch the aloof Aalam's eye," and Altair watched his fingers tremble and tense as if wanting to rip the ties out.

Altair put a hand on Cipriano's, "You're going to ruin my shirt," he said gently pushing them away so he could take the top shirt off by himself. "And it is just a rumor, what do you have to worry over hmm?" he asked cocking his head slightly to the side as he now started to work on his armor he wore under his standard robes but over a thin undershirt so they didn't chaff against his skin.

"Is it true?" he demanded, "I've seen you only in passing till now and been spending my nights in my own bed," Altair refrained from wincing.

Altair didn't say anything for a moment. No matter what he said it would be taken badly. He knew this because he knew how the young assassin was. He was good at what he did, calculating to a fault and a terribly impressive shot, but when it came to things he thought of as his… well he got a little possessive. That was an understatement at that, he got quite a bit possessive. Under normal circumstances that wasn't a problem since Altair didn't show open affection to anyone really and only to him when he knew they weren't being observed and thus there was no reason for him to act like that. But this… this could turn very bad if Altair didn't handle it correctly, so he would just have to minimize the damage as much as possible since there was no way he could prevent it completely.

He only spoke once he'd freed his chest of his breast plate, using it to stall for time without seeming to before saying, "That's because there's been a women in my bed lately," and watched Cipriano sink into his hood like a wounded dog, face finishing in the flickering candlelight.

He was expecting the words that came next, that didn't make them sting any less though, "Why would you do this to me?"

"If you would let me expl-

"What is there too," he growled.

"I'm just try-" but the other wasn't hearing him and Altair got to hear all the fears Cipriano had about being with Altair he'd never actually voiced, as well as several accusations towards him as well. Altair tried to get a word in but he couldn't, the damn boy wouldn't listen! So he did something he _knew_ couldn't be ignored and grabbed him firmly from behind the neck, pulled him close and pressed his lips firmly to his. "Shush," he ordered softly when he pulled away. "Let me explain before you start accusing me of anything, please?" he spoke in practically a whisper and he brought both hands up to cup his face. The silence lasted a few seconds before the younger man nodded.

Altair told him, everything and not what he'd told Ezio. About Venitia and the threat she was to the Brotherhood and what he had to do to maintain her silence so not everything would be lost. He made it very clear he only did it to keep the Brotherhood safe and for no other reason even if he didn't like it. He particularly stressed that point too so Cipriano would get no misinterpretations, he didn't _like_ doing this, but he _had_ to and would until the threat she posed was eliminated even if he disliked the task.

When he was done Cipriano was still withdrawn into his hood and Altair could feel him shaking, "Are you still angry with me?" he asked.

"I want to turn that bitch into a pin cushion," Cipriano seemed to have to force the words out from between his clenched teeth.

That caught Altair off guard and he laughed softly, "I would love to see you do just that, but you can't," he said.

"Shame," he growled.

"Just stay away from her," he said. He opened his mouth, no doubt to ask why but Altair cut him off, "Because I don't want her dead. Not yet at least."

Cipriano pouted, "Do I have to be nice to her?"

"I'm barely nice to her," Altair admitted and Cipriano snorted, "Just don't be obvious _why_ you hate her. This doesn't need more drama."

"I'll do my best," Cipriano promised.

"That's why you should just stay away from her, it would save me the headache," he sighed, "and you one as well," he added and poked Cipriano's heavy silver cross that always hung around his neck in plain sight like some sort of token to ward off evil.

"Does Ezio know what she's making you do?"

"No, and you will not tell me," he gave the dark man a firm look.

"Fine," he sighed, "You're not going to make me leave are you?" he asked after a few moments his hands tugging at the edges of the robes he was still getting used to.

"No," Altair said shaking his head and took off his vambraces, putting them carefully on the bedside table. "Unless you want to at least," he shrugged.

"That's a stupid suggestion," Cipriano said and Altair chuckled.

"Probably," Altair agreed, "Though if you're going to stay I would suggest dressing down. It isn't comfortable in the slightest to sleep in armor."

"I know," though his eyes were hidden by his hood he just knew the assassin was rolling his eyes.

"Good," and he took a seat at his desk to pull off his shin guards and steel toed boots.

"I'm really not allowed to kill her?" Cipriano asked suddenly after Altair heard him taking off some of his clothes.

The question had come out of nowhere and he sounded so pathetic that Altair actually laughed. "No, you're not," he said forcing his grin down.

"Damn," Cipriano muttered. A warm hand came up and found the side of Altair's neck, "I really hate sharing though," he pouted and was very obviously being obnoxious about the whole thing now.

"Well your _nonno_ should have taught you better," Altair huffed theatrically, "You have no manners at all, wanting to go around killing innocents like that."

Cipriano snorted, "She was not innocent the second she lay in bed with you in my eyes," Cipriano said and Altair tilted his head back to look at him, "Since I don't think thieves are very innocent," and bitten lips were pressed against his own. Altair reached up to cup the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

"You're just jealous," he said when they came up for air.

"I was afraid I wasn't being obvious enough about it."

"What have I told you about that disrespecting mouth of yours?" Altair demanded softly faking annoyance and anger.

"I always forget," the younger man apologized cheekily and kissed him again running his tongue along Altair's lower lip. Altair tasted his tongue and tugged him forward so that with a less then graceful stumble he'd fallen right into Altair's lap. Teeth clicked together annoyingly and Altair felt his meet skin for a moment. "Ow," Cipriano pulled back and pressed his fingers to his lower lip. "You bit me," he accused.

"If you remember I'm known to do that," was all Altair said and the assassin flushed. "You seem to enjoy most of the time too," he added and he could feel the heat from his face even more predominantly coming from the young man.

"Is it bleeding?" he asked cautiously, carefully pulling his fingers from it.

"No," he said reaching up to touch the offending new bruise, "You're just over reacting," he sighed. Cipriano ran his tongue over the spot where he seemed _sure_ there was now blood though he did not taste any and did it several more times before being satisfied he wasn't bleeding. Altair just rolled his eyes at him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulled at the heavy red sash as Cipriano shifted in his lap to straddle him properly and not that ungraceful flounder from earlier.

"Sorry," he said softly catching Altair's lips with his own shortly afterward. He rested both his hands around Cipriano's waist lightly as his dark arms circled his neck. Altair 'mmed' when Cipriano's lips left his and traveled down his jaw to his neck and throat kissing and nuzzling him. Altair shifted under him to find a more comfortable position on such an uncomfortable chair but found it to be difficult since it was so small and he currently had the weight of another human resting across his thighs. His hands tightened a bit on his waist as teeth found the tender flesh on his neck amid the kissing though not in a way as to illicit a stop. Idly Altair's hands found themselves under the loose fit of Cipriano's shirt to touch his hot, dark, skin pressing them flat against his flanks and the biting stopped though not the other stuff which Altair enjoyed just as much.

Once again Altair shifted uncomfortably in the chair. This was ridiculous. The bed was _right there_! He pulled his hands away from skin to wrap firmly around Cipriano's bottom, "I'd hold on," he said.

"What are yo- Holy God!" he yelped and quickly wrapped his arms around Altair's neck when Altair stood up and took the four steps to the bed before falling into it. Cipriano stared at him still startled. Altair just laughed sitting up and undoing the buckles on the younger man's shin guards and boots before throwing them onto the floor with the rest of his gear he quickly rid the young assassin of.

"That's better," Altair leaned over and down smoothing lips over his for a moment. "What?" he asked when Cipriano just gave him a look, "I gave you a warning," he just grinned at him.

"A very small one," he muttered before sitting up as well and opening the front of Altair's shirt pulling it over one shoulder. "How do you fit all that strength in there?" he asked looking at the muscles on Altair's arm which were no bigger than normal and in fact were about the same size as Cipriano's whose were small but wiry from shooting a bow. Of course there was no way Cipriano could have picked up a full grown man with that much ease. Meanwhile the Key against his skin was pleasantly warm.

"We'll just add it the list of my many secrets," Altair said smoothly pulling up his shirt as best he could though it still hung a bit off that one shoulder.

"Hmm," was the reply, lips pursed before he shrugged, "I stopped keeping track of them all."

Altair snorted and lay down on the bed, "You're wiser than most men I've known," he said. "And not nearly as nosy," he added.

"And who is?" he leaned down so he rested his forearm on the bed.

"Ezio, La Volpe, both like to try and get me to share secrets."

"I'd be very upset if they knew something before me," he said.

"Well you're the only one besides Claudia who can get me to remove my mask," he said.

"And why can she?" his tone turned sharp in an instant.

"Because I did not wear it at Monteriggioni since Ezio was not there," he said and watched him deflate. "You're so defensive," he rolled his eyes.

"Sorry," he sighed. Altair yawned, he really was tired and was not going to sleep later than he'd ever originally planned.

"Go blow out the candles," he said tiredly looking at him in the semi darkness with lidded eyes. When Cipriano crawled out of bed Altair maneuvered the blankets around himself. The shutter was opened a bit more to allow for more air into the room during the night as well as moonlight before Cipriano leaned over the table and blew out the candles casting the room into darkness. Altair closed his eyes though he could see well enough in the darkness.

The mattress dipped when Cipriano kneed into it. "Roll onto your stomach," he said.

"Why?" he grumbled now not wanting he move since he was right, his bed was extremely comfortable right now.

"Please?"

He sighed and finally twisted from his side to his stomach, exposing his back to Cipriano. "Oh," he groaned when he felt Cipriano drag away the blanket from his shoulders as he straddled one of Altair's legs and suddenly firm fingers were being dug into the knots of muscle on his shoulders. "Just so you know, I really like this," he groaned pressing the side of his face into the pillow. Cipriano chuckled and continued.

Eventually Altair closed his eyes and felt himself nodding off. There were really worse ways he could fall asleep, none of them included getting a back rub by his lover. Before he fell asleep he felt lips on the back of his neck kissing which he was sure helped with the tension just as much as the kneading fingers did. He didn't actually remember falling asleep.


	21. Failure

This was getting ridiculous, even for Altair. He'd been on hunts before that took long, hell some lasted weeks. But at least during those he'd been tracking, looking for his target. This was almost insulting if anything. Facts stood that he'd been hunting this guy for over two weeks now and he always just slipped through Altair's fingertips like water in his hands. Something always came up to stop him or his target would alter his movement. Altair was getting tired of it, and that was why he was here.

He could see his contact, waiting for him, just outside of the lamplight where the shadows were the darkest. There was one good thing about this contact, he wasn't stupid, he was just paranoid. He waited a few more moments as a group of guards walked past. They looked right at him as they passed by him, but this wasn't Borgia territory anymore. It had been claimed by the Brotherhood and the guard's eyes slid right off him.

Once they'd passed around the corner Altair left the sidewalk he'd been standing in. He may have been safe from Borgia guards but his contact was fair game. Well as fair as it could be with an assassin around to slit their throats if they tried to get to close to his contact. And a skittish one like this one, Altair would never see him again. His eyes narrowed when he saw it wasn't _exactly_ who he'd been expecting.

"Hello Adame," Altair said coming up behind the man. The blonde turned quickly, blue eyes cool yet momentarily startled. "Where's your friend?" Why was Adame here?

"He isn't here," he said eyeing Altair and sucked his teeth at him. Altair didn't like Adame, the man was a bit psychotic and not nearly as rational as his black haired friend, his usual late night contact, Leon.

"And what are _you_ doing here?" Altair growled, "I don't like you Adame."

"That's fine, I don't like you either Aalam, so we're even," he grinned at Altair cheerfully and in the semi dark it was practically a leer. The man was weird, Altair didn't like him in the slightest.

"My contact isn't with you, its with Leon. Where is he?"

"Sick," Adame frowned sadly at him, "But," he sighed and adjusted his dark cloak, "he thinks you're an okay guy, so I'm here in his stead," he sounded almost apologetic about it. Almost.

Altair sighed, "Fine," he muttered. "I take it you know who I was asking him to keep an eye on?"

"Right, the creepy guy with the ugly hair, bad fur boa and metal hook for a hand?" he clicked his tongue across his upper pallet. He was finding this far to amusing than anything else which pissed Altair off.

"Yes, that one," Altair narrowed his eyes at him. "What does he know?"

"Just that he's looking. Whats-his-lord-ugly-face has been laying low lately. Apparently his arm got all rusty," Adame snickered. Fuck Altair hated Adame. How could a guy like Leon be friends with a freak show like this?

"Don't fuck with me Adame," Altair growled annoyed.

"So scary. To bad I'm not afraid of assassins," he said.

"You should be."

"Probably," he shrugged and dusted something invisible off his chest. "But I'm not," he gave Altair a side long look.

"Is that it?" he demanded.

"All I know. He's playing smart and trying to wait you out."

Altair chuckled, "Well he's got a long wait then. Cause I'm not going anywhere."

"That's all there is."

"Fine. Tell Leon that next time I want _him_ here and not his friend," Altair glared at him.

"When he's feeling better," Adame clicked his tongue at him again before leaving. The lamp cast him in light for a few seconds his hair like spun gold. Freak.

—

The mood must have been showing. He wasn't exactly cheerful about having run into Adame the other night, not to mention Venitia was so far up his ass he could-

"Aalam," he was jolted up from staring across the training ground. He'd been watching the children again, well child really, he didn't care about the others, just Giovanni. He looked up pushing his hood back some so Ezio could see his eyes.

"Hello Mentor," Altair teased.

"Actually, I like you better not talking like before," Ezio said. He hated being called Mentor.

"What can I do for you?" he asked as Ezio crouched next to him with a groan, "Also it could be worse, I could... you know, make cracks about your age," he chuckled at Ezio's glare.

"Perhaps Machiavelli was right, you aren't good to be around."

"My apologies," he shrugged unconcerned and looked back at the children in the yard.

"I didn't know you liked kids Aalam."

"I don't," he said softly, "Not really. I like them sometimes," he shrugged.

"Isn't that one the Borgia problem?" he looked right at Giovanni.

"I wouldn't say _problem_," Altair said. He was still in a bit of a mood. "But yes he's the one you put me in charge of taking to Lucrezia and babysitting."

"You all right?"

"Yes, of course," his voice was sarcastic, "I'm only a Master Assassin and you have me playing nurse," he gave Ezio a look.

Luckily Ezio didn't take offense, he knew Altair was pissed at more than just the whole babysitting thing. He wasn't in a sharing mood though it seemed. "Is that all?"

"There is nothing," Altair said still watching Giovanni as his instructor showed him and a few other novices how to fight, the movements were childishly boneless and unpowered but surprisingly accurate.

"He isn't seeing his mother today. What are you doing here?"

"Personal investment," he put his hand under his chin to prop it up.

"Really?"

"Surprised?"

"A bit."

"We are friends Ezio, but you don't know everything about me," he turned to Ezio and fixed him in place with his golden eyes.

"This is true," Ezio pursed his lips just slightly, "You aren't the only one who likes his secrets. La Volpe is also full of secrets."

"He is," he agreed and looked away.

"You're like a puzzle. Perhaps you take the Creed to seriously."

"Excuse me?" Altair looked at him confused. How was _this_ taking the Creed too seriously? Sure he did sometimes but that wasn't the issue right now.

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted. You take that first part far too seriously. Is everything okay Aalam?" he asked, Altair was _staring_ at him.

"The Creed?" he choked out disbelievingly. Oh God. Oh God. It clicked then and he knew why Ezio still needed him. He gave a strained, desperate laugh. Oh this wasn't good, this was anything but good, in fact this was the exact opposite of good.

"Yes," Ezio seemed confused. "I would hope you would know it."

"Know it," he choked, "I live by the Creed," he growled.

"Ha, don't I know it. Though really, it would kill you to-

"Do you abide by the Creed?" Altair asked, voice soft. Please let him be wrong. He wanted so desperately to be wrong.

"Of course."

"And the Creed?" Altair knew he sounded anxious. Ezio gave him a strange look and recited what he'd first said. "Fuck," Altair looked away and shook his head. "_What have I done?_" he moaned in Arabic and rubbed his face miserably. "_I'm an idiot. A real idiot._"

"Aalam? What's the matter?"

Altair couldn't help the laugh that sprang from his throat. "My plan just went to shit," he told Ezio helplessly.

"Excuse me?"

"It doesn't matter," he sighed, "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," he reached one hand up as he looked away again and gripped his hair.

"Aalam, what's the matter?" he demanded.

"You have _no_ idea what the Creed is," he said softly. "What was Mario thinking?" he stared at the ground.

"What are you talking about? Aalam you aren't making any sense."

"Not to you. Of course not since you barely know anything about this Order apparently," he couldn't help he was frustrated and angry, not at Ezio, but himself. All his work, his time, his attention, he was watching it spiral down the drain.

"I would watch your tone," Ezio growled.

"Or you'll what?" Altair hissed back. "Not that there would be anything holding you back. No rules, no tenants, just your own code. _Wonderful_," and he stood, voice violative even to his own ears. He couldn't be here anymore, if he did he might bust Ezio's head open like an egg.

"Hey, we aren't done," Ezio grabbed him.

"I suggest you let go of me boy before I get angry at you instead of myself," Altair forced out from around his teeth and fixed him such a hard look Ezio actually let go. He jerked his arm back to himself, settling his cape back over his shoulder before leaving the yard.

Everything was just _perfect_.

—

Last person in the world he wanted to deal with was at his door. No it wasn't Machiavelli, he would have preferred Machiavelli actually since he'd already promised he'd kill the man if he came within breathing distance. But this he couldn't kill. Not yet.

Patience though was the last thing on his mind. He'd locked himself in his room since yesterday, trying to figure out what to do. Nothing was coming. He'd screwed up and he didn't know what to do. He'd failed, he'd actually failed at something. Altair hated failure and it tasted bitter in his mouth and made him feel weak and useless. Those were two words in his lexicon that Altair didn't use often, words that only came up during dark nights when he was alone and couldn't sleep. He wasn't either of things, he knew that, knew that with as much conviction as he could muster, but sometimes things happened and the wall he put up between him and his own insecurities came down. He hated that. And that hatred was at himself and showed itself as anger, and that sadly could be directed at anyone else.

Venitia was standing at his door looking like a puppy he hadn't played with in a while. She had a little pout on her face that Altair wanted to carve out with a knife. He couldn't help it, he hated the situation and was angry. He hated her too, almost as much as himself right now actually. "What do you want?" he glowered at her.

"Where were you yesterday?" she had the _sweetest_ pout on her face.

"What do _you want_ Venitia?" he snapped, "I am not in the mood for you."

"My, so testy tonight Aalam," she cooed, "You should get laid," she eyed him in ways he didn't like. He preferred it when men gave him the eye since at least they were subtle about it. This woman though had no shame. It was like she was a snake and he was a little mouse, something to possess to the point of death.

"If I should it wouldn't be by you," he snarled.

"But I want you to take me," she cocked one hip out wanting him to look. His eyes didn't waver from her face.

"Not interested. In fact sex in the last thing on my mind. So. Go. Away," he glared at her.

She smiled slightly, "And what is?"

"Do you care?"

"Of course," she sounded like he'd hurt her feelings. He wasn't buying it, she _was_ a pretty good little actress. "Well, a bit. You could tell me."

"Trust me Venitia, that is the _last_ thing I plan on doing. Now go away," he closed the door in her face and locked it to be sure.

He sat on the bed and tore off his mask before running his hands over his face and hair. This was all useless. He should have showed up earlier, shouldn't have let Mario teach him. He'd trusted his uncle to teach him right, that he could learn outside of Altair's shadow. But he hadn't. He knew back then Ezio wouldn't have listened to him, he was to hell bent on killing the killers of his family. That had been at the start though, as the years had gone on he'd unwound, been more likely to listen to reason. Altair should have seen him then, claimed to have been a brother from another sect of the order. He could fake a good Moroccan accent when he wanted to and that group of assassins had it in with the Spanish monarchy, Mario would have believed him.

He hadn't though. And now he was dealing with a broken doll and no plan at all.

Outside the sky lightened, another night had passed and then before he knew it the day was spent again and the moon rose. Altair hadn't moved from his spot on the bed other then to drag his knees up onto to bed sitting cross-legged. He hadn't eaten in two days now, and he wasn't hungry either. He was still beating himself up about Ezio.

He should have been there. At least before this. He'd been stupid to think that a kid who'd grown up as a banker and was suddenly thrust into a world he didn't understand with barely a guiding hand would turn into something... someone who had never known about it until he'd jumped feet first into the deep end. Mario had done what he could but he was confined to Monterggioni and Ezio was only there a few weeks, hell sometimes even days out of the year. Altair had stayed away, hoping that Mario would handle it, he'd been the Mentor and had trained dozens upon dozens of mercenaries and assassins and knew what he was doing. Or so he'd thought, so he'd hoped. But he hadn't. He'd just _let_ Ezio do what he wanted. Two years of training and then just sent him back to Florence.

There was a light knock on the door. Altair barely noticed, he was too wrapped up in his own head. He looked up though when he heard the lock click open. There were three people with keys to his door, himself, the Mentor (not that he even _knew_ where the keys actually were) and Cipriano. It wasn't a set of picks either so he knew exactly who it was.

"Aalam?" he blinked when the assassin looked in, "May I come in?"

At least he asked. He sighed softly, "Yes, you may." The door swung open and as silent as a shadow Cipriano slid into the room and closed the door behind him, locking it behind him again when he did. Altair tilted his head slightly to the side as the younger man padded across the room. This was the age, twenty-two, when Altair should have least _said_ something to his little _golden boy_. He hadn't though.

"Is everything all right?" Altair didn't have an answer, not really. Nothing was all right, in fact it was all messed up, but he couldn't say that. He couldn't even say what was wrong. "Aalam?" his dark brows pressed down over his eyes. Altair just looked at him and his shoulders sagged a bit. Perfect age really, still young and impressionable, not like a child, but still young enough to learn... well anything really. Age that wanted to learn really, out of childhood and before they got to set in their ways. He sighed and looked away, he shouldn't have told the kid to come in. "Aalam?" he asked again now standing right in front of the bed.

"Its nothing."

"I've heard you haven't left your room in two days."

"Nope," he agreed.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked worriedly, "I'm assuming you haven't eaten. Again not like you since you never have missed a meal as far as I've known you."

"Stuff just came up. Not hungry anyways," he was truthful at least. Not like he could starve to death anyways.

"You got a pigeon," he said.

"I did?"

"Yeah," he nodded and produced a paper.

"Read it to me."

"'Found him, meet at weeks end. L.' That's it."

"Great," he sighed.

"Who's L?"

Altair's head rolled around on his shoulders and looked at Cipriano tiredly and maybe a little annoyed, "I'm in no mood for one of your jealous fits Cipriano," he said seriously.

"I'm not. I just want to know, who's L," he said defensively, and Altair knew he was flushing, probably embarrassed.

"One of my contacts. Real smart guy who keeps the weirdest company. Helping me track this slippery target I'm hunting," he spoke barely above a whisper, his voice a bit raspy from disuse.

"Oh."

"You really need to relax Cipriano," he said softly, "I don't just sleep with anything that walks, unlike our _fantastic_ Mentor," he all but spat.

"Something happen between you two?"

"Nope," he leaned back.

"Liar," Cipriano said smartly.

"You have such a bad mouth," Altair said unable to help himself.

"Sorry."

"Think before you speak."

"You going to do something about it?"

"Not today," he muttered.

"Really?" he actually seemed concerned.

"As I said, I am not like our Mentor."

"What's that mean?" he finally kneeled on the bed and leaned down to put both hands on either side of him so he was in his face.

"It means I don't go around having rampant sex," he gave Cipriano a significant look.

"Unfortunate," he sucked both his lips in before chewing on them. "You know I am worried."

"There is nothing to be worried about."

"You locked yourself in your room for two days. I think I have plenty to be worried about," he sat up on his knees and put his hands on either side of his face.

Altair sighed, "I'm a grown up kid, older than you too. I don't need you to look after me."

"Can I anyways?"

Altair chuckled softly, "If you want," he shrugged before grinning helplessly when the dark man leaned toward and pressed his lips against his.

"Who's the guy you're hunting?"

"Does it matter?"

"Just wondering."

"Someone in Cesare's pocket," he shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay, I'm really worried now," he frowned.

"Why?"

"This isn't like you."

Altair all but snorted, "You have _no_ idea," he said softly.

"An Assassin shouldn't do a job unless they're at their best. You seem less then at your best," Cipriano said sounding so much like Altair's conscious that it was a bit startling, only without the snark. He could live without the snark though.

"I'm fine," he said.

"And I have a set of tits-

"Thank God you don't, that would be awkward."

Cipriano laughed, "I'm just trying to help."

Altair licked his lips, looking away for a moment, "There really isn't anything you can do?"

"You're going to go see this L person right?" Altair nodded, "Let me come with you."

"Why do you want to come? I told you Cipriano I'm in no-

"And I told you I just want to help," Cipriano cut him off.

Altair sighed, over zealous kid, yet unsure of himself too, that much was obvious. Not that he blamed him. Anyone find out what they did and they'd be taken to the Church, that sounded like a fun time. Of course Altair had yet to find a jail that could hold him for more than a few weeks, the best a month or two, didn't mean he liked getting tortured in them. And there was always torture, these people seemed especially keen on it too. Cipriano really just wanted to be with him and was worried about him, even if he was anxious about it. "Fine, you can come along when I go see him," the younger man smiled. "You need to get to know the good contacts anyways."

"Thanks," he said.

"You said you wanted to help me?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I need you to leave now," he still didn't know what he was going to do about Ezio, Cipriano distracting him was welcome and unwelcome at the same time.

Cipriano frowned, "Why?"

"Please."

"I will," he sat on Altair's thighs, "but-

"But?" he asked a bit disbelievingly that he would actually do this.

"You need to at least have breakfast tomorrow or food of some kind."

"And if I don't?" Altair challenged.

"I'll force feed you," he grinned.

"You look like you'd enjoy it," Altair gave him a look.

"So?"

"Fine," he said humoring him, "I'll have breakfast tomorrow if it makes you happy."

"It does," and he kissed Altair again. "See you," and got off him. Altair offered a small wave and the door was unlocked and as silent as when he entered the darker man left.


	22. This Fine Line

So this chapter has been a long time waiting. Mainly because I pretty much lost so much drive to write this story after seemingly so many people pulled an Ezio and "didn't get it". But I've got some new vigor so updates will start happening again.

To anyone who still doesn't get it, I'm going to use the words of a reviewer to explain it in simpler terms: "Altair's freaking out because he found out that Ezio just knows the words of the Creed, but not the meaning behind it, and he regrets not stepping in earlier to guide Ezio in the ways of the Assassin. He thought he could trust Mario with the job." Only It's much, much worse than just that.

* * *

It was well past midnight. The streets were pretty much empty except for a few drunkards, some guards and people who made deals in the dark. The guards did their best to ignore those last group of people, at least in this part of the city where half the shops where owned by the Brotherhood and no one would deal with a guard. Hell people were more likely to find the nearest thieves den for help than a guard post, better, faster results after all since the thieves were in the assassins' pocket.

Altair could see two forms below them in the shadows. They stood together though didn't touch and Altair could hear them talking in soft tones in the shadow of an alley. "Do you remember what I said?" Altair asked Cipriano his eyes trained on the two.

"No talking, especially to Adame," he said, "Why don't you like him again?"

"When we get done you can tell me. How about that?" Altair grumbled.

"Okay," Cipriano eyed him from under his hood suspiciously. "If you say so."

"C'mon," he motioned and in two hops was on the dirt alley street, Cipriano right beside him.

"Oh, good show. Hello Aalam," Adame was the first one to speak, of course he was.

"I thought I said I didn't want to see him," Altair told Leon.

"Oh shut up, he's still sick," Adame growled.

"Adame, stop that," Leon cut in. Leon was tall with black hair and wore a heavy coat despite it not exactly being cold. Guess he really was sick. "Who's this?" he looked at Cipriano before coughing into his hand.

"Enu, he's here to watch and not participate."

"Teaching one of your birdies how to fly?" Adame asked smartly.

"If I am it isn't any of your business. I'm here since you called me," he added to Leon.

"Touchy," Adame said and clicked his tongue looking away.

"Adame," Leon snapped, "play nice."

"Sorry," he pouted.

"What do you have for me Leon?" Altair asked slowly starting to grow impatient.

Leon coughed again, "He crawled out of his hole, finally. Cesare's orders, he's got a new hit," he coughed.

"Where?"

"Party, being held in that French general's honor," he sniffed.

"Who's his target?"

"Ambassador from Florence. She can't die. She's important to the Medici."

"Did you say _she_?"

"Nice lady, she-" more coughing.

"You shouldn't be out here Leon," Adame said worriedly putting a hand on his shoulder.

"He needs to hear this. I'm tired of tracking this guy anyway. Now shut up," he gave Adame a look that made Altair grin under his mask. Adame looked away again but didn't remove his hand. "I'm tired of hunting Silvestro just as much as Aalam here is."

"So?" Altair prompted.

"She isn't a real ambassador so to speak, the wife of one but everyone with a lick of sense knows she's the brains of the outfit. Cesare's put a hit out on her to try and better control her husband."

"That doesn't sound good," Altair frowned.

"Exactly. And since I know you lot are friendly with Florence I figured it would be in your best interest-" he paused to cough again, Altair took a small step back, he sounded terrible, "interest to kill Silvestro before he killed his target."

"Where will he be?"

"The party is being held in the Papal Gardens. Very exclu-" he sneezed. "Excuse me," Leon wiped his nose on a handkerchief. "It's very exclusive and from what I've heard guards will be posted everywhere."

"Not a problem."

"Aalam, listen to me when I say this might be to much for you," Leon said seriously. "Cesare knows Silvestro is being targeted and he's lost half of the best of his little personal odd squad to you already. He won't let you slip in. I heard-" more couching.

"Leon we should get you home," Adame finally spoke up again worriedly, "You're in no condition to be here," he shot an accusing look at Altair, "Just tell him and we can go."

Then to Altair's surprise Leon snapped at him in Swedish, perfectly flawless Swedish to fast for Altair to understand despite the fact that he could speak it semi fluently. Adame looked away sheepishly then, like a dog who'd just been kicked. "I'm sorry," Leon reverted back into Italian, sniffed once and then continued, "Everyone is going to be screened at this place Aalam, you won't be able to slip past this security."

"I have my ways."

"I'm telling you _don't,_" Leon said as firmly as he could with his cold. "I don't want to hear from one of my underlings that you've gone and gotten yourself killed. You're a good guy and it'd be a shame for you to die."

"Thank you for your concern," Altair finally admitted. It wasn't like Leon didn't know how good he was, he'd been using his services for a long time. If Leon said it was to much it might actually be to much since he more than almost anyone else knew what Altair could do and his limits. "What do you suggest."

"You'll have to go as a guest."

Altair chuckled, "I am no noble or dignitary. How do you suggest I do that?"

"I… acquired a little something," and he prodded Adame with his elbow. The blonde huffed a theatric sigh, "Oh no belly aching," Leon scolded in a much gentler tone then he'd used this entire time. A second later Adame produced a sealed envelope with a bright blue wax seal. "An invitation to one of the biggest parties of the season," Leon smirked in the half light as Adame held out the envelope.

"Oh?" Altair took it, "And who am I?"

"Some noble from Sicily, I trust you can fake an accent."

"You are correct," Altair corrected his Italian to sound more Sicilian and Leon grinned. "What else?" he fixed his accent back.

"The time and date are in there and everyone, from what I've heard at least, will be checked for weapons."

"Oh…

"Your hidden blade is rather useless then since it's still a blade, besides the fact that if they find it on you you'll be lit up like a firework."

Altair's mind spun and quickly tried to think of something. Next to him Cipriano shifted and his eyes wandered to him before an idea struck him. "What about servants?"

"What about them?"

"Will they be checked for weapons?"

"Probably not. Why?" Leon seemed confused.

"Just an idea," was all he said. "Thank you for the information Leon," he said and tapped the envelope into his open palm.

"Of course Aalam, as always it is a-" he stopped mid sentence his face contorted and he sneezed three times. "A pleasure, well except now," he groaned and wiped his nose. "Your quiet friend more than welcome to use my services as well… if he can find me," he looked at Cipriano. The assassin just looked momentarily confused and Altair held back a sigh.

"Thank you once more. We'll take our leave now," and he patted Cipriano's shoulder. The younger assassin turned quickly on his heel and left the alley. Altair tucked the invitation into one of his pouches and nodded to Leon and Adame before following.

"C'mon Leon, you should be asleep now and not-" Adame's voice faded as Altair walked down the street.

"I still don't get why you don't like Adame," Cipriano said when Altair caught up.

"Really? He's an insufferable asshole," Altair stated as they walked, sidestepping around a pair of drunks who had collapsed against the building.

"I don't know. I guess I just empathize with him," Cipriano said thoughtfully.

"Oh, this I have to hear," Altair said.

"He cares about Leon and was worried about him," he said.

"You should see him not around-

"I mean Leon goes out doing stupid stuff like going out in the middle of the night when he's sick. It's hard not too empathize," and he sent Altair a pointed look from under his hood. "I'd be worried too," and his look shifted.

Great, now Altair felt like a dick. "I did not think of it that way," he admitted. "He is just annoying," he added.

Cipriano laughed, "If you say so. I did not see it though," he grinned his white teeth flashing in the semi dark, bright against the darkness of his face from the shadow of his hood. "What did Leon mean if I could find him?"

"Ah, that," Altair nodded. "He doesn't just take _anyone_ to be his contact. Very selective. If you can find him he'll help you. That being said he isn't easy to find."

"You found him," Cipriano noted.

"I did," he agreed, "I worked jobs in Rome before the Brotherhood moved here, I've known him since then. It even took me several weeks to track him down and that was only after I knew he existed which took far longer."

"How does he know so much?"

"Think of him like Ezio, he is a Mentor."

"Of what though? Is he another Rouge like La Volpe?"

"No," he shook his head, "Professional informants, spies. They hold allegiance to people with the biggest purse of whoever wants to buy."

"That seems… problematic. I don't know anyone with more money then the Borgia."

"Leon hates the Borgia."

"Oh. Why does the leader come see you?"

"Because he knows me. I used to go through his underlings, not anymore though."

"How do you find these guys?"

Altair smirked and patted Cipriano's shoulder, "That you'll have to figure out on your own," Cipriano pouted at him but Altair just shook his head. "Fly on your own," he said and the younger man knew that was the end of the matter.

—

It was almost a relief to hear that while he'd boarded himself in his room that Ezio had left Rome. He'd gotten another message about war machines and had gone to deal with them. That was just fine in Altair's opinion since it meant he didn't have to see the Florentine and it also let him think about what he was going to do about him if anything. It might be just better to move on.

It was a distracting thought and didn't allow him to focus like he should on what he needed to focus on. He needed to worry about Silvestro but he wanted to worry about Ezio like he has been for the past forty years. Long time to devote you're thoughts to, most people would be jealous. Shame Ezio wasn't privy to this, he'd be flattered, hell his head might swell to astronomical size from the praise. At this rate he probably never would be either.

Altair did his best to not think about that though. Silvestro needed to be his main concern despite his own feelings. He couldn't just let the wife of the Florentine ambassador simply end up dead at a Borgia party, it would look bad and wouldn't help their relationship with Florence at all either. The Medici were well aware that Ezio was in a small way a protector of their interests and a protector didn't allow an ambassador's wife to get killed. It left him with getting to Silvestro before he got to her. He'd already figured a way around the guards, it wasn't too difficult when all they were worried about were the dignitaries and little else.

He needed a helper, someone the guards wouldn't look at because if they did that was the end of it. That in itself presented a problem that few people could fill and automatically discounted most of Altair's friends since the _were_ trouble and looked like it, in fact everyone Altair could think of to help practically looked like trouble. Hell Altair looked like trouble but he'd be hidden under a mask of being some Sicilian dignitary. He wasn't even sure he looked Sicilian but it was worth a shot if Leon thought he could pull it off, he may not have been a genius but was plenty clever and knew what was what even if Altair couldn't see it at times.

He was down to one choice that was practically guaranteed to go unnoticed. The problem came in the fact that he didn't want to ask him to help. Not for personal reasons, not really anyways. It was just a bit uncomfortable to ask because of why he was asking.

Altair wasn't surprised to find Cipriano in one of the practice yards. Francesco and Eugene were with him and they were playing target practice with a picture of Cesare and they were throwing knives at it. He was hesitant to go into the yard though since they seemed to be enjoying themselves, the other two lamenting over the fact that Cipriano was a better shot than the both of them. He really hated interrupting good memories even if they weren't his, especially since they were such fleeting things. Always harder to remember than the painful memories, the ones you wished you could forget. So he just stood and watched for a few minutes enjoying watching young men enjoying themselves.

A small bitter part of him in the back of his mind crawled forward making him frown under his mask. He'd been like them once. He remembered practicing with his own friends in Masyaf all those years ago. Malik was always a better at a sword than him, not by much but enough to best him whenever he wanted. Rauf wasn't better than him but he'd had a style that let him find holes in places where there should have been none. Pir could climb like a monkey, faster than anyone Altair had ever met, once he was on a vertical there was no one who could catch him and pull him down. There were others too, ones Altair didn't remember as well but still saw sometimes on the occasions when he dreamed, rare though those times were anymore. He preferred to not dream though and to just sleep within darkness.

He finally pulled himself away from the fence as the young men went to gather their knives from their makeshift knife board. "Master Aalam," Eugene called when they turned around, "Care to practice with us?" he asked around his French accent grinning.

"Thank you, but no, Altair said with a shake of his head. "I wanted a word with Enu if you would," he added.

"Of course," Cipriano said quickly as he shoved his own knives into the sheathes around his waist. "It will take a moment," he said to his friends and came over to Altair to dragged him away to just out of earshot. "You're outside, that's a nice change," he grinned.

"Oh shut up," Altair rolled his eyes though he knew Cipriano couldn't see for the hood. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course, anything."

"I need your help."

"What with?"

"Do not... take this the wrong way-

"What does that-

"Shh, just listen," Aalam interrupted and Cipriano bit both his lips to close them. "I need someone to come with me to the Borgias' party. Someone who won't be noticed."

"I could think of a few of our brothers who are good with disguises," he said thoughtfully.

"No, no disguises. Someone can only hide so much, I need someone who can hide in plain sight and doesn't need a disguise."

"And how can I be of assistance?"

Aalam sighed, "I'm pretending to be a Sicilian dignitary, I need a servant," he watched Cipriano's face drop. "Do not... look at me like that."

"I look like the help?"

"Unfortunately yes, which is exactly what the guards will think. Which is why you can help me. You're an assassin Cipriano but sometimes we have to pretend things we aren't. You understand that right? I mean you aren't exactly who you pretend to be," he reminded the darker man. It took a few moments but Cipriano did manage to swallow his pride.

Finally he nodded, "Fine. What do you need me to do?"

"I need someone who the guards won't notice even when they're right in front of them. They will be checking all the guests for weapons, I still need a blade though, carried by someone the guards won't see. Anyone else they would, most people aren't used to going unseen in a crowded place are they?" Cipriano looked sideways. Altair knew, he was dark enough to stick out amid groups of Europeans with their pale skin and Cipriano was darker than him still. It wasn't easy to be of color in a world so worried about being pure. So if you were different like them you learned to keep your head down to avoid looks and not draw attention and not get inspected by the Church. Reason why he preferred Islam really, they didn't care what you looked like.

"Yeah, I know," Cipriano bobbed his head with a sigh. "I'll help," he added, "What do you need of me?"

Altair looked over at Eugene and Francesco who were still there, waiting and talking between each other. "We'll discuss it later, go be with your friends," he patted the man on the shoulder.

"Want to join us?" he asked hopefully.

"Another time, I wouldn't want to get in the way."

Cipriano frowned, "In the way of what?"

"Ah, now that is the question," and he left.

"Enu, coming?" Francesco called.

"Him and his fucking secrets," Altair grinned to himself when he heard Cipriano say that to himself. "Yeah I'm coming," he called back and Altair heard him go back to his friends where he belonged.


	23. Carrion Feeder

Who has the best readers ever? I think that would be me.

Also, pimping my blog since I don't talk to people on here. brokenballoons tumblr com If you're not on Tumblr you're kind of missing out; just sayin' (and not just cause of me).

Mild yaoi warning and trigger warnings for rape :T

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Altair rolled his eyes as he looked over at Cipriano who was fidgeting in his livery. "Oh stop," he said softly.

"I can't believe I'm your servant," he muttered back from behind his teeth.

Altair just grinned at him, "I'm just your superior, just like always. So get it together, we're almost there," he said eyeing the building down the street they were walking towards. "And don't forget, we're Sicilian," he added.

"Is this fine?" he asked trying to do the accent.

"Terrible," Altair said.

"And you're better?"

"Much," Altair said faking the accent perfectly. Sometimes there were benefits of being almost five hundred years old. "You learn a bit when you're as old as me," he said.

"You aren't that old. Can't be what, no more than thirty?"

"Oh yes," Altair had to withhold a chuckle. "Older than you at least," he was still keeping up the accent. "Can you do Moroccan?" he asked pausing out of easy eyeshot of the party.

"An accent? Um," he stopped and thought, "Maybe, is this Moroccan?"

"Good enough, I doubt you'll have to do much talking though," he said. "You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," and revealed two blades that had been sewn into the inner lining of his jacket. Both thin as ribbing you'd find in clothing and sharper than hell. Altair has bought them especially for tonight. Altair nodded and Cipriano closed his clothes hiding the knives away.

"Lets go then, people to kill and all that. Don't forget, you're the help-

"Oh fuck you," Cipriano spat at him.

"Maybe later," he said smugly arching his brows at him and Cipriano looked down, he was still so easy to fluster is was practically criminal. You'd think that after a few months he'd be used to it by now, but no, no such luck.

At the gate of the gardens were ten papal guards, quite a security detail but Leon had warned him about that. Indeed they were screening everyone and checking their papers. Altair didn't hesitate as he walked up to the guards feeling perfectly at home in his silks and linen like he'd been born in them.

"Invitation, sir," said one guard holding out his hand. Altair dug in his coat purposefully looking a bit scattered. It was part of his act since a scatter brained noble didn't appear much of a threat.

"Right uhm... its here some... where," he dug a bit more in his pockets.

"Sir," Cipriano tugged his sleeve and Altair blinked at him, more surprised by his accent than anything else though it made for a good show. "Back pocket, sir," he said helpfully.

"Oh? Oh yes, right," and he finally pulled out the invitation. The guards were obviously annoyed by him, he could tell by the way they held themselves. "Here you are," and he handed it over.

The guard took it and looked it over, "Well everything seems to be in order sir. Now then we need to search you, as you know," he said and Altair nodded and let them pat him down. They found no weapons and let him through, not even looking at Cipriano. All they saw was a servant, dark skinned, insignificant and barely human who wore a cross over his clothes to keep the wolves of the Church at bay.

"What the hell was that?" Altair hissed as they walked into the party.

"What was what?"

"That wasn't Morocca-

"Egyptian was easier, sorry I didn't think it really mattered," he whispered back fiercely.

"I didn't even know you could fake that one."

"My father was Egyptian thank you," Cipriano hissed.

"... I didn't know that."

He snorted, "You aren't the only one with secrets."

"I guess not," he said actually sounding impressed. He led Cipriano to someplace dark and the young man pulled open his coat and out came the blades. Altair fit one up his sleeve, the other Cipriano shoved into his boot since there wasn't much place to hide a knife elsewhere on his person that was easy to get to. "Don't wander away from me," Altair said softly, "don't forget, here you're nothing."

"I know," Cipriano swallowed knowing all the rumors that came out of Borgia parties.

"Tell me if you see the Florentine ambassador," he added as they reentered the normalcy of the party and Cipriano nodded.

The party was typical Borgia fashion, which meant it was overly extravagant. Lots of music and food and people. Especially people, wearing every color and shade of dress in fine silks and wool and linens and velvet, some even in leather. Women in dresses that looked like they were killing them, crushing their own bodies for the sake of fashion. At least the men weren't wearing wigs yet, he'd seen that in the Apple; ugly things and powdered and starched and stacked high on their heads and looking almost like they might fall over. He wasn't looking forward to that part of history, it was a nasty bit of history. That was still a few hundred years off though, no use living in the future, was even more frustrating than the past and he had no use for either.

The music was nice at least, he guessed it was anyways. He didn't have a head for music, it all sort of... sounded the same to him. It was actually almost helpful, meant a tune didn't distract him during a hunt, also meant he was a terrible dancer. That had been fun explaining to the women he courted that he wouldn't and couldn't dance with them. Cipriano at least seemed to enjoy it and he could see the young man tapping out time on his thigh as he scanned the party.

"Aalam," he whispered and tugged at the hem of Altair's shirt, "The Florentine ambassador," he nodded subtly and Altair felt his eyes narrow at what he saw. There was the ambassador all right, and his wife, they were standing in a small crowd and seemed to be enjoying themselves. But on the outskirts of the crowd he saw a hunched man making wide circular patterns around them like a vulture.

He walked over to them seeming pleasant and ordered Cipriano to keep an eye on Silvestro who was still slowly circling without seeming too. "Hello ambassador," Altair said bowing to the man, his Sicillian flawless.

"Hello there, I don't believe we've met," said the ambassador tipping his head to him as Altair rattled off his lie. "What can I do for you sir?"

"I simply wished to congratulate you."

"Oh?" the ambassador rose a brow and Altair could see his wife looking him over with a stern eye like she'd caught one of her children misbehaving.

"Yes, on what a fine wife you have," he said and bowed to her as well though not nearly as deeply as to her husband purposefully showing off his left hand and caught both their eyes flicker with understanding.

"Why thank you," he said.

"It is quite a pleasure to be the presence of such _important_ people, some might even be jealous of it," he stepped a bit closer. The ambassador looked around, "Looking for someone ambassador?" he asked and the man's eyes came forward.

"Ah… no, I guess not," he said, though his wife may have been the brains the ambassador himself was no idiot, "You said you were from Sicily correct? My wife has often spoken of going to Sicily, perhaps you could tell us about it?"

"I would be more than happy too," Altair nodded. The talk was disguised and to a casual listener it would sound totally normal despite the true weight of the conversation and after several minutes Altair glanced around. Silvestro was gone. It didn't seem likely he was smart enough to detect Altair, from what he knew the one-armed man was cunning but lacked real intelligence. He probably figured Altair would be there for a while talking with his target and there was no need to stick around. Then he noticed something out of place. Not only was Silvestro gone but so was Cipriano. When had he left?

"Is everything well?" asked the ambassador's wife anxiously when she saw Altair looking around.

"My servant…" Altair's brows furrowed, "He seems to have wandered off."

"Oh my," she said frowning.

"If you'll excuse me my lord, my lady, I should find him before he gets into trouble."

"Yes, of course," the ambassador nodded.

"I hope your journey to Sicily is a pleasant and safe one," he added as a warning before leaving.

He figured Cipriano would have followed Silvestro when he left. Could it have been that Silvestro left because he knew the man was watching him? If that was the case then he knew Cipriano was following him as well. This could lead to all sorts of trouble. Once he'd found a lull in the party where there weren't so many people he looked through his second sight. The world burned at the mass of people in his vision, most were gray and a sparse few, like the Florentine ambassador and his wife, were blue and even more than them were red. So much red, either they were guards or were Cardinals or other important members of the Italian nobility. Most of them were, of course, harmless, for the most part at least. The guards weren't though. They however weren't looking at him, he was just one of the many dignitaries at the party and not a very important one a that. The lack of blue amid the red and gray was actually helpful since it allowed him to see easier. He could see his own trail of darkness leading from the spot he'd just been in with the Florentines as well as Cipriano's blue patch not a foot from him and his trail.

The trail led around the edges of the party and out past it into the dark part of the gardens. Altair's eyes narrowed as he continued to follow it listening almost more than looking and hoping nothing bad happened. Silvestro just saw a servant that was following him and the man was more than a bit mad, he had a metal claw for an arm after all. Close by he heard something on the other side of a bush and without thinking to much about it he checked it out only to quickly duck back away before he was noticed by the couple enjoying each other's company. Yes, definitely a Borgia party.

He could see the end of the trail where it ended in a gazebo. The place was dark except for a torch further on down the garden path and there were clearly two figures inside, one red and one blue. He switched out of his second sight and walked quickly towards them using the Key to help sharpen his night vision. With it he could see that Silvestro had Cipriano pinned, that metal claw around his throat, no doubt pushing forward to try and kill but the young man had both hands on the limb trying to relieve the pressure. Under the bench lay Cipriano's thin knife as though it had been kicked there.

Altair adjusted his sleeve and the handle of his own knife slid into his palm as he got closer and was to get a better look at what was going on. His knuckles turned white he gripped the handle so tightly when he saw where Silvestro's hand was exploring. The wood made a slight noise of protest when Altair stepped up onto the gazebo and Cipriano looked at him over Silvestro's shoulder his arms obviously straining against that metal arm of him. "Excuse me," Altair called. Silvestro straitened and peered over his shoulder like the buzzard he was. "I think you have something that belongs to me," he said stepping forward.

"That so?" Silvestro rasped out.

"Yes. Your life," the Key grew hot against his chest as his hand moved and before the other two could comprehend what had happened it was over. Silvestro stood there a moment longer before his eyes rolled and he slumped forward. Altair kicked him off to the side where he fell in a clatter of metal, fake velvet and flesh. Altair barely glanced at him, "Are you all right?" he asked, "What did I tell you about wandering off?" he added angrily.

"You told me to watch him," Cipriano stammered, not facing him and seeming to be fumbling with his clothing.

"You're bleeding," Altair continued voice far more gentle and reached out to touch the assassin's neck where Silvestro's claw had managed to part skin.

"I'm fine," he flinched away. "Are you going to give him the last rites?" he swallowed.

Altair looked over at the vulture of a man, "No," but he did kneel to close his eyes and soak the feather he'd brought with him in the man's blood. "What happened?" he asked turning back to the darker man who was clumsily undoing and rebuttoning his shirt.

"You were talking with the ambassador and Silvestro left. I followed him thinking I could find out where he was going and then come get you. He led me out here and I lost him, he attacked me, we fought and he got the upper hand, pinned me to the gazebo," he said as he finished with the buttons, and now that his hands no longer busy he chewed on his nails, what little there was of them.

"I see," Altair said eyeing him. "Get your knife, we're leaving, you need to get those cuts looks at," Cipriano nodded fumbling for the knife and shoving it into the top of his boot. "You sure you're all right?"

"Fine," he snapped, "I'm ready to go home," he added quickly. Altair nodded mutely and they returned to the party for a moment where Altair had a few words with the ambassador before they left.

"Stop a moment," he said after they'd crossed the bridge that separated the Vatican from the rest of Rome and dragged him to a doctor's stand. He bought a roll of bandages and despite Cipriano's protests wrapped them around his neck which was still bleeding. "When he get back to Tiber Island I'll look at them properly, now hold still," he said softly but sternly. Cipriano held still but Altair could feel goosebumps under his sure fingers. He nodded and they continued, finding a sewer entrance shortly after, a torch was lit at the bottom of the ladder meaning someone had come through earlier. Altair grabbed the torch and led the way through the caverns.

At some point though he noticed that his footsteps were the one set he heard. He turned around quickly scanning the darkness but with the torch it was practically impossible to see beyond the light though. "Cipriano," he called but got back no answer before going back the way he'd come. He found him about fifty feet back leaning against the wall of the sewer, he was looking up at the ceiling. "Cipriano what are you doing?" his voice seemed to startle him.

"Nothing."

"I can see that," he frowned, "Is everything all right?"

"Yes." No, obviously not.

Altair frowned, "Walk in front of me, I don't want to lose you," and he gently prodded the other man. Cipriano trotted in front of him almost walking outside of the range of the fire light. They didn't speak and eventually came to the ladder that led up into the hideout. Altair left the torch there and they climbed up to the wooden cover and he pushed it off before vanishing over the top, Altair following behind quickly. Cipriano's back was covered in some sort of gross slime and he smelled like something- the only way Altair could describe it- brown.

"If that's all then, all done?" the younger man asked and made to leave.

"Ah, not quite," he pulled Cipriano back by the back of his collar. "I need to look over those wounds and you still have my knife."

"Oh, right," he pulled the knife from his boot handing it to Altair without another word.

Altair took it slowly, frowning as he did so before directing the darker man to his room. "Take off your jacket," he ordered as he put both knives away with the rest of his weapons after lighting a few lamps.

"I can get the doctor to look at it Aalam," Cipriano said sitting in the chair at his desk.

"I know," Altair said walking over to him, "but _I_ want to tend to them," and the other man looked down nervously. It just made Altair frown deeper. He pushed it aside though and undid the wrappings. There were three cuts, two on one side of his neck and the third on the other, each about an inch long and not too deep, but still deep enough to still be oozing blood. "How long did he have you in a stranglehold?" he asked tipping his head up to look him in the eyes but the man just looked away.

"A few minutes," Cipriano said. "He was surprisingly strong."

"You should know that not everyone small in size is weak," he said.

"Yeah," he nodded and Altair got his medical kit. "I don't need stitches right?" he asked.

"No, nothing like that, I'm just going to clean them up," Altair said mirthfully, "You didn't even need stitches for this," he touched the large scar on his neck from where that bullet had grazed him during the fire at the inn. "So definitely not for such small wounds like these," he smiled helpfully.

"Good, I don't like stitches," Cipriano made a face wrinkling his brow.

"This will sting," he warned and applied alcohol to the cuts. Cipriano hissed and flinched as if he wanted to jerk away but didn't. "That's the worst of it," he said pulling some healing ointment from his kit and uncapping it.

He was about to apply it when there was a knock on the door. Altair stared at it wondering who the hell it could be. Everyone he knew knew better than to bother him after a mission since he liked to be left alone till the morning after, then they could bother him all they wanted. He set the jar down and went over to the door, unlocking and opening it. Oh great, just what he needed to add to this evening. "What do you want Venitia?" he all but growled.

"I wanted to see you," she said smiling at him.

"Really? Funny, for you are the last person I wish to see," he said.

"Who's that?" she looked around him and locked those vicious eyes on Cipriano who glared back, his hatred obvious. "My, such intensity from something so lesser," she sneered.

Altair refrained from slapping her and instead stood between their line of sight, "That is one of my brothers and you will speak to him with respect," he growled. "What do you want? Speak quickly I haven't got all night."

"Well you could," she said looking at him now from under her lashes.

Altair rolled his eyes unimpressed, "I just returned from a mission. If you must know I don't deal with _anyone_ after one."

"You're dealing with him," she whined.

"He was my partner on it and got hurt, I'm tending to his wounds and sending him on his way."

She frowned, "And after?"

"After I'm going to sleep," he growled.

She sighed, "Fine, be that way," she gave him a certain unhappy look, "You have to let me in sometime," she added with a wink before finally leaving. Altair sighed and closed the door, locking it and rubbed his face. When he turned back to Cipriano he was looking down hands gripping the seat of the chair and trembling. It was really not the kid's night.

"Can I kill her now?" he growled when Altair got near.

"No."

"Damn," he muttered.

"Head up, I'm not done," and Cipriano lifted his head as asked. He brushed away a bit more of the blood that had come from the cuts and grabbed the jar again. He pulled off one posh glove with his teeth and sunk his fingers into the ointment before smearing a healthy helping of it on each cut. After he wrapped the younger man's neck in bandages and tied it off at the end. "There, now I'm done, they shouldn't leave much of a scar," and he pressed his lips against him jaw, he was surprised when he flinched.

"Thanks," Cipriano said and stood, brushing him off and tried to stand.

Altair's brows furrowed and he pushed him back into the chair. "Something is wrong, tell me," he said seriously.

"Nothing in wrong."

"You do not _flinch_ when I touch you normally, and you are also a terrible liar. Tell me," he said hands on the back of the chair trapping Cipriano between his arms.

"Do I have to?" he asked looking up at him.

"I won't make you do anything, but know whatever it is, you can tell me," then his eyes looked away, "Did Silvestro do anything to you?" and he flinched again. "What did he do?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered and Altair sighed.

"Okay," he said softly and pressed his forehead against the other man's. "Why don't you get out of those clothes? They're rather disconcerting," and briefly he pressed his lips to Cipriano's temple before backing up and removed his own coat, throwing it into a corner created by his dresser and the wall. His clothes smelled like the sewer, meaning they smelled disgusting and he'd rather have them off. He was about to remove his shirt when he looked back, Cipriano hadn't moved. "Cipriano," he called making the man look over his shoulder. "Your clothes stink," he said.

"I hadn't noticed," he said watching Altair when he turned back around tugging his shirt off and tossing it with his coat. The boots went next and he threw those under his bed, they were terribly uncomfortable things with heels, horrible running shoes. "Do I have to undress you boy or can you manage on your own?" he called tearing off his first undershirt before going to work on his belt.

"N-no," Cipriano stammered.

"Not like you wouldn't enjoy it," Altair muttered to himself grateful to be out of those silk pants, they made him sweat, and finally took off his final soft, loose fitting, undershirt tossing it onto the growing pile of clothes leaving him just in his underpants. When he looked back Cipriano was standing but staring at him, his own shirt in his hands and the bandages were stark against his darker skin. "I will undress you," he said almost like a threat and the other man looked away. God this was annoying.

He sat down on his bed and watched Cipriano undress as it it was the first time he ever had in his life. He tossed his own clothes into the pile with Altair's. Altair leaned back, propping himself on his arms, "Don't move," he said and he didn't. Altair titled his head to the side looking him over now that he was practically naked. He knew the young man's body practically as well as his own and besides the bandages around his neck there wasn't any change to his physical appearance. He knew though that Silvestro had done _something_ or even said _something_ to make him act like this. He frowned deeply.

"What?" Cipriano asked eyeing him.

"I should be asking you that," Altair said sending him a look. "I know you don't want to talk about it but-

"Nothing happened all right?" he snapped and moved from his original spot towards him.

"Than what the hell is the matter?" he demanded sitting up properly and grabbed him, keeping him at arms distance. Cipriano's teeth worried over his lower lip, gnawing as he did. "Tell me," he said softly.

"If you tell me what happened with Ezio," he said right back.

Altair sighed, "Fine. We had a deep misunderstanding and I got angry, I am avoiding him right now."

"About what?"

"His idiocy."

"He's our mentor."

"Doesn't mean he isn't an idiot does it?" Altair rose his brows at him, Cipriano fought a grin and won, his lips merely twitching. "Now tell me," he insisted.

"He just… thought I was a servant," he said and was now working over his upper lip with those teeth of his.

"And?"

"And what?" his brows furrowed.

"Did he touch you?" his silence was answer enough and Altair's grip on his tightened. "I told you not to wander," he reminded him.

"I know, I just-" he looked away annoyed more with himself. "I wanted to help you."

"You're not helpful dead."

"He didn't want to kill me," that was even more distressing actually. "At least not until I drew a blade on him," he said seeming to be speaking around something stuck in his throat.

"So when I arrived he was just trying to kill you," Altair said not as a question but more as a fact.

"Yeah," he said.

"Well he's dead no, you realize that right?"

"If course I do," Cipriano said actually sounding a bit annoyed.

"Good, so why are you still flinching?" he asked drumming his fingers on the small of his back.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does," he said firmly. "You've come close to death several times Cipriano, hell I've saved you from some of those deaths, but this isn't like you. Something happened for you to not just be able to shake it off," he frowned unhappily. "And weren't you the one to tell me an assassin should always be at their best?"

Cipriano looked away, moving his entire head to do so. Finally he sighed and said, "He was a pervert," he said still not looking at Altair. "Like those Catholic _priests_," something told Altair there was more to that but he wasn't going to go into it. Everyone deserved to have their own secrets after all. "If you hadn't come along—" he bit his lower lip eyes flicking up to the ceiling. Altair didn't say anything waiting for Cipriano to say it on his own. He already knew what the young assassin was going to say but this sort of thing needed to be aired out or it would fester and rot you from the inside. Especially for someone like Cipriano, quiet and reserved, maintaining a cool mask that let him function in this time period in this part of the world with his color of skin. Not telling someone was what he would have done, but it would have made him more wary of strangers, even those within the brotherhood because it wasn't exactly easy to bounce back from something like that. No doubt it was made all the terrifying from that claw around his throat. It was only then as well that Altair noticed the cross he always wore around his neck was gone. He couldn't remember when it had been removed or if it had been there when they got to Tiber Island at all.

He sighed and ran a hand through his curly dark hair, cut short to keep it out of the way, but longer still than Altair's. "If you hadn't come along he probably would have sodomized and killed me," his words came out in barely a whisper.

"Well he didn't," Altair said gently.

"But you could not have come—

Altair grabbed his hand and pressed the knuckles to his lips, "Cipriano," he spoke into the younger man's fingers, "I would never let that happen," he said seriously; like a promise. "Got it?" Cipriano just nodded mutely. "You'll find that I have the most amazing timing."

A small smile fought its way onto his lips and he could glimpse a slice of Cipriano's white teeth. "Yeah you do," he agreed.

"You're too important for me to let something happen to you. Do you understand?" Altair asked kissing his knuckles.

"I... yes," he nodded slowly.

"I hope so," Altair said softly continuing to kiss his knuckles with their myriad of tiny scars, "I would become undone if I was to lose you," it wasn't a lie either. "After all who would have the guts to tell me to do something if I didn't want to," he grinned slightly.

"I've never done that," Cipriano said frowning.

"Threatening me when I stayed in my room, not even Ezio came to see me."

"He was busy," Cipriano insisted and Altair smiled, so modest this boy was.

"He knew better than to anger me again for he saw it once and I doubt wanted to see it again."

"Nor would I," Cipriano nodded in total understanding since he'd seen what Altair's anger looked like directed at someone else and probably didn't want to imagine it directed at him. "Have you forgiven him?"

"I was not angry at him. I was angry at myself."

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter anymore, I am past it," mostly past it at least, he was still trying to think of how to fix what he'd blundered. "We are not talking about Ezio though," he bruised Cipriano's knuckles and fingers with more kisses. He felt the other of the darker man's long fingered hands comb through Altair's hair.

"Aalam?" he asked. Altair just hummed, enjoying the caresses given to him freely by the young man. "You would never hurt me would you?"

"No," he lied. One day he would hurt him just like he hurt all the others. The ones that lasted always wanted to become old with him. But while they could do such a thing he could not grow old with them, he did not age, he did not change, he was eternal, more than even stone. Stone could change its form, become new stone, but Altair could not, all he could be was what he was right now. Even after all this time he'd yet to figure a way out of hurting those he loved, because in the end he became just as wounded as those he hurt. "I would never hurt you," the words came freely to his lips when he spoke, for years of lies made even the deepest ones sweet to any ears.

Cipriano leaned down and kissed him gently, a soft smoothing of scared lips over his own with the one deep, permanent scar. "Good," Cipriano said against his lips.

"Come to bed and let's put this behind us," Altair said softly gently stroking his face the skin smooth under his calloused fingers.

Cipriano nodded and shed the remaining of his clothing, letting the pants drop onto the floor with a soft 'wumpth'. Altair lay down on the bed and was surprised when Cipriano climbed onto it after him not beside him but on top of him. "Aalam," he said as almost a whisper, tipping his head down and kissing him before pulling away the sheet Altair had pulled over himself to caress his bare chest.

"You don't have to do this Cipriano," he said when they came up for air.

"I know, but I _want to_," he said and ran one of his hands through Altair's hair.

"I don't want to hurt you-"

Cipriano laughed softly, "You won't. You never would, not now," and kissed Altair again to silence any complaints Altair might make. "I trust you," he almost told him to stop then since he did not feel worthy of such innocent and boundless affection this young man was all too willingly showering him with. Instead he pulled Cipriano close and kissed him firmly, pulling away the rest of the sheet as the darker man ground his body against his.

Cipriano's hands fumbled over Altair's scarred and marked skin. He knew the young man had every blemish, every cut, every scar, every tiny imperfection on his skin, a number which had only increased with his age, memorized and his lips and tongue seemed to find every one. Altair sighed when that red tongue rolled over a particularly large one on his chest where he'd been cut from flank to breast in one fell swoop back in the thirteen hundreds. Again and again Cipriano touched those old scars and made Altair shiver and where his tongue had passed would break into goose flesh as saliva cooled and dried on his skin rapidly.

Altair hummed when Cipriano traced a large and puckered scar on his pelvis with his index finger. That one was very old, from the Fourth Crusade, and the bunched skin was sensitive to even such a light touch. The end of the scar was lost beyond the top of his under pants and he grinned when Cipriano pulled them down to finish tracing the scar that went halfway down his thigh after starting just above the join between leg and torso. "Keeping track of all my old wounds boy?" he asked almost playfully.

"I am not a fucking boy," Cipriano said in a low growl interjecting curses where he wanted since he knew Altair liked hearing him say them.

"Hmmm, not with those eye's you aren't," Altair agreed looking down at Cipriano who was staring back with dark, feral, eyes.

"And yes, I am," Cipriano said and pressed his lips against the tender flesh on the inside of his thigh.

"Let me know if you find any new ones. I can't keep track," Altair's teased and Cipriano laughed softly into his skin.

"I will," he promised, sliding further down to coil his tongue across a practically invisible scar on the inside of his knee.

Altair sighed and relaxed into the bed, enjoying Cipriano's careful attention to each scar, even the small ones. "Hey," he growled when the young man bit down on his thigh, "I have enough permanent bite marks," he said and grinning an apology Cipriano released his flesh and kissed the red mark.

"Sorry," he said softly and Altair could feel the way his lips were curled against his skin.

"That mouth of yours always gets you into trouble Cipriano," he said and Cipriano chuckled.

"I can't help it. You seem to bring out the _worst_ in me," he didn't seem sorry in the slightest however. Altair just chuckled as fingers and lips moved back up his chest and Cipriano practically lay on top of him, his chin on his sternum. "And I just had a thought-

"Oh here we go-

"Shut up," he said sounding annoyed but mirthful. Delicatly he picked at the Key which lay in the hollow of his throat. "Why do you always wear this?"

"Problem?"

"You don't even take it off when we have sex."

"I don't take it off when I bathe either," he pointed out. "Does it bother you?"

Cipriano's lips became a thin line for a moment as he decided on his answer. "Do you take it off for Venitia?"

"She's lucky if I take off my clothes," and Cipriano laughed, quickly smothering it in Altair's chest, his body shuttering with his amusement.

"Really?" he asked around Altair's skin and his own giggling. Altair only shrugged to the question. "It's important to you though-

"Yes. Now are we going to keep talking or-

Cipriano was laughing again. "Weren't you the one saying we didn't have to?" he challenged but Altair just pushed him and rolled them over so he was pinning the younger man on his back. "Or were you just kidding?"

"It is not advisable to anger me," he growled softly though not at all angry.

"You couldn't be angry with me if you cried," Cipriano challenged, lifting his head off the pillow and kissed him.

"You should learn manners," Altair managed to say only when they remembered to breath.

"You'll have to discipline me than."

Altair rose both brows at him, "Oh, do not tempt me," and Cipriano grinned into their next kiss, wrapping his arms around Altair's neck, keeping him close. "Because I will," he promised against his lips. At least they could be like this now, an uncertain future could wait and Altair focused just on the man before him, not even letting those dark ghosts get in the way.


	24. This Difference of Times

The knocking was soft, but annoyingly insistent, like a fly that buzzed around your ear and you couldn't manage to catch it. He grumbled and practically slid off the bed feeling boneless and exhausted and feeling a certain amount of rightful rage to whoever had the balls big enough to disturb his rest. Didn't they know what time it was?

Currently though he was naked, which was rather obvious, so he slouched over to his dresser and dragged out a pair of pants and stumbled into them, almost falling on his face at least once. Just once though, he wasn't clumsy enough to almost fall twice. Blindly he reached out and dragged a scarf from the pile he kept at the top of the dresser and mindlessly wrapped it around his head and face like a woman's hijab. He'd done up enough of those in his life to know how to put one on in the dark, with gloves on, upside down. The drawstring was tied around his waist as he walked to the door and opened it, sticking his head out and looking back and forth down the hall.

No one.

Someone was going to die.

"Aalam," he started at the voice and looked down and his anger evaporated. It was Giovanni Borgia.

"Giovanni, what are you doing here?" he grumbled and rubbed the part of his face that was visible.

"You're supposed to take me to see my mama," he said.

"Now?" what time was it? "What time is it?"

"An hour past the quarter bell," he recited.

Altair uttered a curse in Arabic. He'd slept in. That hadn't happened in a long while, not that he was particularly surprised though. "Well I just woke," he said before realizing something, "How did you find my room?" the boy had never been near his room before.

"Consus told me to ask Dante. He told me," the traitor. No doubt making him work hard instead of sleeping in. He really did want to go back to bed since he and Cipriano had returned late and finally fallen asleep even later. He was going to have words with Dante about telling children where his room was.

"I see," he sighed and pondered over what to do. "Come in, I am not yet dressed but I don't want you waiting outside," and the boy darted into his room now seeming to be very excited. "Sit on the chair, I will be ready shortly," he said and the child climbed up onto the chair and sat.

Muttering to himself, though slowly growing more awake, Altair went back over to the bed. "I need to leave," he said softly, leaning over Cipriano in the bed who was still buried under their blankets making his form indiscernible as far as gender went.

"You need to come back to bed," Cipriano grumbled, his head stuffed into a pillow.

"Duty calls, it comes first," he sighed and ran a hand through the loosened curls that covered the darker man's head.

He turned over so he was lying on his back now and reached up to tug down Altair's scarf, "Our bed should come first," he lamented, fingertips drifting over the lines on his face.

"You'll live somehow," Altair said and kissed him gently, "You can stay here, just lock the door when you leave."

"Where are you going?" Altair's response was to look over his shoulder and Cipriano twisted in order to see around him. "Is that-

"Yes, the Borgia boy," he said quietly. "Just go back to sleep. We'll be gone shortly."

"And if I don't want you to go?" Cipriano purposefully grabbed the hem of Altair's pants to keep him from leaving.

"I must, sorry," he said and gently tugged away. Cipriano just groaned and rolled back over, almost sulking. Altair rolled his eyes and looked back over at Giovanni who was on his knees, leaning over his desk, hands pressed against some papers. He didn't fear the boy would be able to read them though since like all the personal papers he kept they were written in coded Arabic that he read as easily as regular Arabic. He dressed quickly, pulling off the scarf he'd been wearing to replace it with his mask and hood. "Giovanni," he called softly as he sheathed his sword properly, now fully dressed and armed.

The boy spun in the chair so fast to look at him he almost fell over and Altair chuckled softly, "Are we going to see my mama now?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes, but shhhh," he said and beckoned to the boy who slipped off the chair. "Someone is still sleeping," and he motioned to Cipriano's back where all you could make out of him was his head of black hair. The boy immediately put a finger up to his lips with a nod and Altair ushered him out of the room, locking it behind him.

"Aalam, why was someone else sleeping in your bed?" he asked in a way only a child could ask such a personal question without it being offensive.

"It isn't important," Altair replied, "But you must not mention it to anyone."

"Why?" his head tilted to the side slightly, trying to understand.

Altair kneeled in front of him, "It would cause me a great deal of trouble if people knew I was sharing my room."

"Why?"

Oh great, this game. Why did children love the 'why game'? He never knew, and he didn't know if he had done the same thing even since that had been far to long ago to remember. "Because I'm doing something wrong. I would get in trouble if people found out. You don't want to get me into trouble, do you Giovanni?"

"No!" he cried, even giving a little jump.

"Good, than this will be our secret? I can trust you with this can't I brother?"

Giovanni practically glowed at the praise, "Yes, yes I won't tell anyone," he promised, nodding rapidly.

"Good, now lets go see your mama," he said and stood back up. Giovanni smiled brightly and padded along next to him quickly to keep up with his longer strides.

They left the hideout without incident, except for Francesco asking if Altair if he'd seen Cipriano, he'd just said no and moved along. Out on the island no one paid them mind and it wasn't until they crossed over the bridge that Altair began to use allies and side streets. While he could have moved through the crowd unseen without trouble, no one remembering he'd even been there, there was the boy who as always was curious and would have been noticed. Children he'd found were more memorable than adults because they were so loud, so clumsy. So he stuck to the shaded and less traveled lanes. At one point Giovanni came right up to his side and grabbed his hand. He looked down, surprised, and saw him looking around warily. Not afraid, but nervous as if the darkened streets made him uneasy, which was understandable seeing as how he was only five years old. Altair simply squeezed his hand and continued on, at a bit of a slower pace so he didn't have to drag him along.

Eventually they came to a quiet, empty, walled plaza. There was one entrance that didn't involve scaling a three story building and there were two trees in a patch of grass cut into the stone paving. He left Giovanni there, telling him to be quiet and not draw attention before leaving to go find Lucrezia. It didn't take long, for she was where she always was, waiting for him at one of the fountains, dressed down from her normal splendor so she almost passed as a normal woman.

"Hello Lucrezia," he said only loud enough to be heard by them and not draw attention.

"You," was all she said that little hint of venom still there. She did not know his name, he wouldn't tell her even though she had asked. "Where is my son?"

"This way," and he made a small sweeping motion with his arms as if to indicate her to go first. She huffed and marched past him, he followed a step behind and directed her where to turn. They weren't far from the plaza so it was not much of a walk but as they got closer Altair felt like something was amiss.

Lucrezia froze at the entrance of the plaza and Altair quickly looked around her and saw two older men looming over Giovanni who was still sitting where Altair had left him. He couldn't hear their words but men did not approach children for no reason, especially not in a city like Rome. He pushed past the woman who seemed on the verge of outrage and quickly walked over to them. "Excuse me," he called and the men looked up. They looked like slavers, or maybe thieves, hell they could have been brothel owners. Some people had sick fantasies that some people were willing to cater to. Whatever they were they looked likely were no good. "I would advise leaving," he said.

"Get lost, we ain't got no quarrel with you," said one.

"Ah, but I have one with you should you not step away from that child," Altair said.

The two men looked him over but saw nothing but his robes, no armor, no weapons, they all were hidden, and he did not wear such a flashy uniform as some of his brothers and sisters did. "Oh? What what are you supposed to be? _The Assassino_?" one of them joked and he frowned, narrowing his eyes as well. All of Rome knew of Ezio's reputation, he was the Assassin, most thought the only one, and they knew he dressed in white robes with a hood and a cape.

"No. I am not," he said in a hard tone. "I am just a blade in the crowd, and unless you want to find out what that means you will leave, now," he growled.

The men just laughed, "Oh, thinks he's tough doesn't he? Look man, we don't want to fight you, wouldn't be a fair fight and-

"I take that as a no," and he grabbed one by the collar of his robes and seemed to toss him aside so that he struck the wall, the blow cushioned by his head. The other yelped when Altair dragged him close with his right hand and seemed to punch him in the gut, only this punch was accompanied by the deadly taste of steel as he twisted his hidden blade into the man's soft inner flesh. "You would do well too remember to take the words of strangers more seriously," he said softly and released the man who stared at the man before slumping over, not dead, but seriously wounded.

"As for you," he looked over at the other man who'd scrambled to his feet and upon Altair turning his attention to him bolted, knocking Lucrezia down in his haste to get away.

"Mama!" Giovanni cried and ran over to her and helped her up, "Are you okay?" he asked.

Lucrezia gave her son one of her rare smiles, "Yes darling, I'm fine."

"Good," he said cheerfully.

"But you," and Lucrezia turned a sharp eye on him.

"I," Altair nodded slightly.

"You just killed a man in front of my son an-

"He isn't dead," Altair looked down, "Not yet anyway," he added. "I could have if I wanted, but it will be no worse than what he will have to do," he said looking at them.

"Do not say such things, my child is not a murderer," she snarled at him and marched over to him, Giovanni her little shadow.

"Giovanni, why don't you tell your mama what you want to be when you grow up."

There was a bright shine to the boy's eyes when he said, "I want to be a Master Assassin like you Aa-" he cut off when Altair shook his head at him, silently telling him not to say his name.

"Oh Giovanni why would you say that?" she asked sounding beside herself and crouched in front of her son. "Those sorts of men kill people."

The boy opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again and said, "Cesare kills people too," and Lucrezia seemed shocked.

She turned to Altair furiously, "What have you been teaching my son?" she demanded.

"Only truth, unlike that house of lies you live in." She looked away, embarrassed perhaps, or guilty, he didn't know. "You stay here, I shall return shortly," he said.

"Where are you going?"

"I cannot just leave him here," Altair gently kicked the man who thankfully was not screaming but rather seemed too terrified for words. "Either the Tiber or a doctor, I have not decided which," and he leaned down before throwing the man over his shoulder. "And do not leave here Lucrezia, or I will not be pleased," he added as a threat though he knew realistically she'd never jeopardize her son or her ability to keep seeing him.

At her nod he left the plaza and found the nearest doctor. "How may I be of service?" he asked.

"This man," and he put the man down onto the ground.

"Oh, does he need treatment? Is he dead?" he seemed interested in the dead part.

"Perhaps. He could be, if you wished it," Altair said. All the doctors knew of the Assassins and other than a few in the area they all paid tribute to the Assassins who kept guards and unsatisfied patients from harassing them. Not to mention Ezio practically owned every practice in this part of Rome as well. "He got in my way," he explained, "Do you want him?"

"Well as a doctor I cannot kill a patient, it would go against my oath."

"I see, then perhaps you could heal him? Allow me inside, he is very heavy."

"He looks it," the doctor nodded and left the window to open the door which Altair dragged the man through and put on the hard wooden gurney. "Well?" he asked.

"What should I do with him?" Altair asked keeping a firm hand on the man's chest as he tried to get up despite his wound.

"He does not look like he'll make it," the doctor said pulling off his mask with a frown.

"That is unfortunate."

"Wait, no!" the man finally spoke, able to finally twist his tongue into words that had been tied from fear. "Please, don't kill me. I don't want to die."

"Ah, but do you deserve to live?" the doctor asked. The statement didn't surprise Altair, he knew doctors would let their patients die if they felt they deserved it. Not all doctors did, but some. "What was he doing?"

"He and another looked interested in my ward. He is five."

The doctor tutted, "Definitely not than," he said.

"You're a doctor, you're supposed to help people!" the man cried.

"Ha! Really? No no my friend, I help people who help me. And you are not, so-" he went over to his cabinet and pulled out a small glass jar as well as a syringe. "I'm going to give you something to make you sleep. When you wake up, you won't remember a thing," he said filling the syringe with clear liquid and moving back over to them.

"When?" the man seemed relieved since 'when' implied he wasn't going to die.

"Yes. Say hello to God for me while you're up there," and he stuck the man with the needle pushing down the stopper quickly. The man stared at him before Altair watched his body shake a few times and lay still. "Rest now, this life is over," the doctor said and closed the man's eyes. "Thank you," he told Altair and handed him a few coins, far fewer than he would make in selling the body to an artist, or simply using it for his own deeds.

"I won't say it was a pleasure," Altair ducked his head when the doctor chuckled and left the doctor's office. He gave the coins to a street urchin without shoes and told them to buy themselves some with it and they nodded before running away. He found his way back into the walled plaza after that where Lucrezia and Giovanni where sitting on the grass under the two trees, interested in something but Altair did not worry himself over it. He sat on the other side of the tree instead, not listening to them talk, merely the sound of their voices and quickly became lost.

—

_A child, a different child, not Giovanni, ran up to him and quickly became lost in the long tails of his dark robes. They giggled as he tried to twist around and get ahold of them. But children were like fish and slipped right through your fingers unless you held them _just so_, which he could not. When he finally stood still they hugged his leg and with lightening fast movement snatched them up from the ground._

"_Daddy!" Darim grinned widely at him as he held the boy, so young and fragile and beautiful in every way. Altair had never thought much about children, than he had had one and never wanted to go back._

_He smiled back at the toddler, barely three now, and growing so fast, like a weed. "Darim you know you shouldn't be in my office," he scolded gently but truly was not mad. He could not be angry with Darim, never, he was Altair's pride and his joy._

"_Well I am," he said firmly in a tone that Maria took with him when she was being insistent upon something. Altair laughed, "I wanted to help you work," he added._

"_It isn't as fun as you think Darim," Altair said gently and walked over to his desk and sat, the boy on his lap. "I'm afraid you'll find it rather boring."_

"_Mommy said daddy works too much. So I'm helping!" he cried insistently and Altair grinned._

"_All right," he said softly and pressed his lips to Darim's forehead. "I'm glad you're here to help me then," and Darim beamed back at him, missing two of his bottom teeth._

—

Altair looked up at the sun after a while, it was practically at it's apex, meaning that this meeting had gone on long enough. He stood up from his spot on the tree his head whirling with past events that he shut away into that dark corner of his mind that he didn't inspect all too often. Too many things he didn't want to remember dwelled there and he had no patience for the past anymore. It was over, it was done, and yet still those old blades cut like freshly forged steel.

"Giovanni," he said after clearing his throat, standing over the two of them. "It is time to go."

"Okay," he nodded, "Bye bye mama," and he hugged her and kissed her on the cheek before following Altair who was making his way towards the exit.

"Same time next time, Lucrezia," he told the blonde from the exit where she still sat under the trees watching them go. She only nodded and he turned away.

"Aalam," Giovanni said and drew his attention downward. "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Why would you think something is wrong?" he asked though wasn't exactly surprised the boy had figured it out. He was no simple boy, he was a child of Eden, or at very least the Shroud.

"You're sad," he said softly, like a whisper or a secret. "Right? Consus says you're sad too," he said.

Altair let out a dry chuckle, "Perhaps," he agreed, "But like everything, it too, shall pass." The boy frowned and went up to him and hugged him as high as he could reach, which was only about the thigh. Altair swallowed something heavy, "Come Giovanni, we should be getting back. It is time for lunch-

"And you didn't have breakfast," Giovanni said grinning.

"No, I haven't," he agreed.

"I'm hungry too," the child declared and let go of Altair's leg before grabbing his hand and practically pulling him back towards Tiber Island.

* * *

God I cried like a little bitch writing those last two short parts. Tears in my eyes and all that. Writing this version of Altair makes me so amazingly depressed sometimes, because no matter what; he loses _everything_.


	25. Training the Hunting Eagle

/blows dust off story

What's going on here, why is there a new chapter but... it's the same chapter?

There's been an amendment made to the story. Chapters 1 and 2 have been largely rewritten to fit better with the story and there is now a new chapter 12, as well as an entirely new section added to chapter 13 (The Divine Comedy) the original chapter 12. Happy reading!

* * *

He didn't look up when someone sat across from him at the desk where neat and boxed (now with locks) documents and summons and orders sat in arranged order from most important to least important. Altair didn't need to look up to know who it was though. It was obvious to him. It was in the way he breathed, and how the fabric and armor expanded and moved against each other, the way he sat, with just the slightest fidget, as if he expected Altair to explode in his face. Altair said nothing, simply kept his head bowed as he worked over once again what was best to say. He still didn't have a clue actually but he couldn't let what had happened continue to come between what he needed to do in respect to what had happened.

Altair tipped his head upward, the edge of his hood flashing yellow for that brief moment as the edge of his vision cause the colors of his Vision before they cleared as Altair fixed Ezio with a level gaze. "Hello brother," he said at last, "I trust your mission was as successful as mine," he put the smile into his voice though he was not actually smiling.

"It was. Though I confess, I have not heard of your success, brother," he said the word cautiously and Altair frowned; this would not do.

Altair leaned forward and pressed his forearms to the table, "Silvestro is dead, I have two left on my list," he said simply.

"That is good news."

"Yes, soon I will back to where my most pressing matter is playing nanny to the Borgia and her son," he said it almost sarcastically, though lightly as well. He truly did not mind the task, not anymore anyway.

"I could give the task to someone else," Ezio apparently didn't get it. What else was new?

"No no, it is fine," he held up a hand then he sighed, "Ezio, I am sorry for my outburst before you left," he hated apologizing. It meant he was wrong, and he hated being wrong almost as much as failure, and really they were often one in the same. But he would if he needed to, just as he would lie conveniently when he needed to, sleep with someone to keep them silent, threaten a man Ezio considered his friend. He would do all that too, and had, so now he was adding apologizing to that list of things he would do.

"Oh," he honestly seemed surprised, which it itself was not a surprise since he knew Altair was not one to apologize.

"It was nothing you did," he continued.

"Really? It seemed it was my fault at the time," Ezio said mildly.

"No, I had done something stupid. I should not have taken it out on you," Altair frowned under his mask.

"It must have been something very bad," he said warily, watching Altair's reactions carefully.

"Unforgivable, to all parties involved," he said and watched Ezio blink as he admitted to this and wonder, no doubt, what it was he'd done. Of course he respected Altair enough to not ask and Altair did not share further, Ezio wasn't ready yet and maybe he never would be. Then suddenly Altair stood, "Come with me?" it was phrased as a question but he knew Ezio would obey. Altair knew because he knew Ezio and he knew himself and that people like Ezio, while leaders themselves, wanted people to follow as badly as others wanted to follow them. So he wasn't surprised when Ezio stood and followed him when he moved away from the table. "I know what you're thinking," he said as they left the main room.

"Really now? I have yet to meet a mind reader," Ezio said, his tone came easier now, as if movement calmed him, Altair wouldn't be surprised if it did.

"Yes, and I know you're still-" he didn't know which word to use here to not insult him. Afraid would be demeaning or anything like that would be a step too far. "Anxious," he settled for, "about our last meeting."

Ezio snorted, "I am not," he said.

Altair, not stopping, just turned to Ezio and gave him a look that was only just seen under his hood, now much more shadowed thanks to the bright sun as they left through one of the doors to one of the inner practice yards. He was satisfied by the shift of Ezio's eyes and he knew very well that Ezio knew he'd seen it and knows that he's a terrible lier. "I am still your friend Ezio," even if he did screw up, "but, you can't be worried of always angering your friends."

"I do not," Ezio said, he's such a terrible lier it's criminal.

"Quite," is all he responded with, sounding unimpressed, making Ezio's mouth turn down in a frown. "You should know that I don't get angry often, and when I do, it is usually at no one but myself," he continued and saw Ezio's unease when he drew his sword, the short one that he kept tucked up against his shoulder blades. "But I know how you are," he said simply. "You don't trust me and think that I'll react badly to anything else you do, because you don't want to offend me." Ezio was visibly startled, because yes, that really was exactly it. "I want you to know that there is no bad blood between us, which is why I want you to attack me, work it out of your system," he wasn't even holding his sword up, just with it curved towards his back.

"I do not think that is a good idea," Ezio said.

"Why, afraid you'll lose, Mentor," Altair challenged, teasing him.

"I do not think it would be a fair fight. Few can match me in skill-

Altair interrupted him with soft laughter, "I would say do not make me laugh, but you already have. Come," he motioned with his free left hand. "I am not afraid, for I will not lose."

"You are very bold Aalam," Ezio said eyeing him.

"It's why you keep me around isn't it? Someone must have the balls to tell you you're wrong, and we know Machiavelli won't look nearly as good doing it as I," he prodded further, the amusement clear in his voice now.

Ezio chuckled, "Perhaps we should make a bet then," Ezio finally drew his sword, its Syrian style but new with a gleaming blade. Well isn't he a copy cat? Altair was only amused by it.

"Oh?" Altair asked taking a careful step back when Ezio moved forward two.

"If I win you won't wear that stupid mask anymore."

Altair felt his brows go up, "And what do I get when I win," he didn't use the word 'if' since now there was no doubt that he'd win, since he wouldn't be doing that any time soon, not for Ezio at least.

"What do you want?" Ezio stepped closer.

"I will think about it and get back to you," Altair said, for now there was nothing he wanted that Ezio could give him. "You'll just owe me one," he liked the idea of Ezio owing him one.

"Very well," Ezio kept trying to get closer to him but Altair wasn't about to let that happen and kept moving back, further into the courtyard. "You say you want to fight. Then stop running," Ezio growled.

Altair just grinned, "I am not running, simply—" and he sprang forward, finally, his short sword sweeping out in front of him. Ezio managed to side step but they both heard the sound of cloth tearing. "Planning my attack," Altair said as he turned on the spot and faced Ezio again.

"That was rude," Ezio said holding out the end of his cape to inspect. There was a six inch long cut in it.

"I am known to be such," Altair said and made Ezio jump away again as he pressed his advantage of a distracted Ezio. Ezio threw up his sword and caught Altair's blade just in time. Altair then put him on the defensive. "You'd think you'd know to keep your eyes on an opponent by now Ezio. Did your uncle nor your years teach you nothing?" he asked and when Ezio tried to make an attack Altair just batted it away as if it was nothing more than an annoyance.

"I know well how to fight," Ezio growled back.

"Oh you do? Perhaps you should show me then?" Altair openly teased him. He knew unlike himself Ezio was easy to tease and set off. "Instead of just waving that sword around. You'll hurt yourself," and as it to prove his point he slipped into Ezio's defenses and grabbed Ezio by the wrist. "Or everyone around you," he added softly, leaning close and tapped his short sword to Ezio's chest.

The younger man swung to land a punch on Altair's face but he saw the flicker of yellow from the side of his eye and in a move of acrobatics simply flipped out of the way. Ezio stared after him. "How did you do that?" he demanded trying not to sound impressed. Altair just put a finger to his lips over his mask, now with both feet back on the stone. "What?"

"A good Assassin knows how to get out of any situation. He can move like water and leave his opponent spinning in circles. I learned from one of our eastern brothers. He taught me many things," Altair said slowly circling Ezio. "Can you leave me in circles Ezio?" he asked cocking his head.

Ezio just growled, taking the bait and now Altair let himself take the defensive. Altair's blade moved through motions that no one this side of the world had seen. He imagined he held one of the oriental blades he'd once trained with, with it's graceful curve and dark steel that flashed like rippling water at the end of his wrist almost bending under the force of his motions. This short sword did not react like those blades but it was still familiar and responded to the graceful motions of Altair's arm and wrist.

Ezio didn't land one hit, or even get close.

"You are better than I expected," Ezio ground out from between his teeth.

"You should always expect your opponent to be better than you Ezio."

"Do you?" he snarled and pressed down on Altair, using his superior height and bulk to gain a slight advantage.

"Always," Altair said softly, leaning forward so their faces almost touched. "Even if they never are," and in one fluid motion Altair unbalanced Ezio by suddenly dropping to the ground and rolling to the side. Ezio fell forward but tucked himself into a roll as well, popping up a moment later in time to leap away from Altair's sword aimed right at his throat.

"You're very cocky Aalam," Ezio said voice wary now.

"Confidence. Do not confuse the two," Altair said moving forward again and making Ezio have to defend himself. "An Assassin always acts in confidence, even if deep inside he is at a loss and doesn't know what to do," he said. "For to panic is to be vulnerable and to be vulnerable is to allow the Brotherhood to be compromised; the third tenet of the Brotherhood," his words were punctuated by the sound of ringing steel as Altair slapped his sword against Ezio's brutally twisting it into holes Ezio didn't even know he had until Altair's blade almost met his body.

"The third tenet," Ezio repeated and to most ears it was a statement, to Altair's it was a question. A subtle one, as though Ezio had never before heard of such things, the tenets. "You will find I have confidence in spades Aalam. I would never allow harm to come to my Brotherhood," and he tried to get on the offensive.

"Good," was Altair's only reply and didn't allow it, almost playfully pushing Ezio's sword away. He controlled the fight and while he doubted Ezio realized it he wouldn't allow the younger man the offensive unless he wanted to play defense. "Do you know the second?" he asked dancing around Ezio, swiping his sword in and out of Ezio's sight like it was lightning.

"Second?" Ezio huffed, his breath ragged now from their furious fight.

"Of our Creed," Altair said pulling back to let Ezio attack him properly. The man thought better when he wasn't being annoyed he was losing in a sword fight. Ezio's sword tried to find the holes in Altair's style but after so many years Altair had no holes. At least none he didn't put there on purpose.

"I cannot remember, I am getting on in my years. Remind me," Ezio growled out.

Altair grinned from behind his mask. His plan was working perfectly. He refrained from making a crack at Ezio's age and said. "You are a blade in the crowd. A ghost amid the living. Hide in plain sight," and to make the lesson stick Altair spun, his black and red cape fluttered out behind him in an arc. He reached up and at speed unlatched it so that on his second pass in the spin he flung it at Ezio.

The cape hit Ezio square in the face and the man stumbled back a few feet, regained his footing and jumped back blindly to miss Altair's swipe. "Always remain undetected," Altair said as Ezio tugged Altair's cape away from his face and Altair once again slid up almost too close to Ezio startling the younger man and making him back up again. "A visible Assassin is a dead Assassin," and their swords grated together as Ezio tried to hit from from close range.

He saw Ezio's throat bob as he swallowed and tried to slip away. Ezio found himself with his back to the wall of the training courtyard. His eyes widened slightly and Altair almost effortlessly disarmed him, making Ezio give a wince as his sword clattered out of reach. One hand pinned Ezio's left hand to the wall, the other pressed his own left hand and Ezio's right to Ezio's shoulder.

"And the last, the first really," Altair said in barely a breath of air, his mask almost touching Ezio. "Most important," and Altair's hidden blade shot out of it's sheath so it almost shot through Ezio's throat. Ezio just started at him, slightly confused, maybe a bit worried, and swallowed hard. "Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent," he whispered and then let Ezio go. The younger man visibly relaxed when Altair stepped back. "Hmmm," Altair said and went to pick up Ezio's sword for him. "It appears you now owe me a favor my friend," Altair said offering Ezio his sword, his voice light.

Ezio took it after a second, "It appears I do," he agreed, seeming relived to be back on less intense terms. "You… fight like no one I have ever met Aalam," he admitted.

"As I have been told," Altair shrugged and reached back behind him to shove his short sword back up between his shoulder blades. "Often people do not live to see my true skill. I thought anything less against you would be an insult however," and Ezio could see Altair's eyes crinkle in a smile.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Monteriggioni," Altair lied, such a small, effortless lie. "Mario often played hosts to our brothers from other lands. They have different ways of seeing the world. Different ways of fighting. I learned from them, to be the best I could be, in all things," Altair said facing away from Ezio as he went to retrieve his fallen cape. For a moment he thought about reattaching it before he folded the square up instead and tucked it under his arm. At least that short story was not such a lie. Mario had played such a part to Assassins from other lands.

"I did not know," Ezio frowned watching Altair carefully.

"There is much to learn from all our brothers. I see the skills of our novices increasing when you send them off on missions to far off lands," Altair said and rested his hands on his belt easily. "They learn other ways, new ways, it is good for them, good for all of us," Altair nodded.

"I see the wisdom in this," Ezio agreed.

"I would hope so," he scoffed. "One never stops learning, even when they're as old as you."

"Aalam!" Ezio barked and Altair just laughed


End file.
